


Choices

by Spuffysky



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Abuse, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Prostitution, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Crossdressing, Drug Use, Gabe Saporta is a pimp guys let's go, I would say I'm new to this but I'm really not, I'm Sorry, Like really heavy abuse, M/M, Prostitution, Ryan is not a good person in this, Sadness, This is not a fun story, fucked up society dynamics, heavy themes of friendship - Freeform, shitty parenting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2018-10-10 20:08:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 7
Words: 30,849
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10446387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spuffysky/pseuds/Spuffysky
Summary: Brendon is a runaway, desperate for anything to brighten up his dismal life and longing for the soulmate he thinks he'll never have, or even deserve.Ryan is desperate for a mate, to prove that he doesn't need a soulmate to be the Alpha his father groomed him to be, and he'll do anything to get one.Spencer is busy searching the world for his soulmate, unaware the man he is destined for has caught the eye of his estranged best friend.And Pete and Patrick are just awesome.





	1. It's a Hard Knock Life

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know what this is. Please validate my writing career with comments or kudos or however you kids show affection these days.

Brendon was fifteen when he got his first heat. He was a late bloomer, and his parents had been rolling their eyes for a while now, saying that of course his body had to take its time to give him his first rut. However, instead of waking to find himself overheated with a burning need to knot, he felt empty and hollow, sobbing uncontrollably in need and curling in on himself. His skin felt like fire, and his sheets were soaked with sweat and...something else. It was agony, but still he tried to stay silent. He couldn’t bear to wake his family, and face them in his terrible shame.

His efforts failed, though, and soon his mother was knocking on the door, calling for him to get up and go to school. All she got in return was a weak groan, so she opened the door, and, well…

He was an affront to God, apparently. His father told him everything once he’d recovered, how Omegas were meant to be female only, and how his status meant God was angry with him, and his family. They prayed desperately that night, but nothing happened. Statuses don’t just go away with prayer. But at the time, in his terror and desperation, Brendon truly believed his parents, and so he sank to his knees and begged God for forgiveness.

When he didn’t change, his parents decided to just get rid of him.

“They’re doing what?” Patrick asked the next day at lunch. Pete sat next to him, quiet for the moment but clenching his fist around the forgotten fork in his hand.

Brendon looked down miserably at his grainy mashed potatoes.  
“They’re marrying me off,” he repeated. “Father says if I won’t change, I at least shouldn’t taint the household any more. They’re trying to find somebody to take me in until I’m of legal age.”

“That’s fucked up,” Pete snapped. Patrick gave him a warning look, as Brendon still wasn’t entirely used to such language, and he went quiet again.

“How long do you have?” Patrick asked urgently. “And what about your Soulmate? Surely they wouldn’t disregard the bond.”

“I’m going to finish the school year, and then go.” Brendon said, his two best friends exchanging panicked glances. It was May, he didn’t have long. “And Mother says they don’t have time to find my Soulmate, and that it’s a fake concept anyway.”

“Bullshit. No, Patrick, you know he has to hear it. Brendon, you were there when Trick and I met, the Soulbond is real, you have the Mark to prove it.”

“I know.” Brendon replied. Tears burned his eyes, so he rubbed at them. “But, but I don’t have a choice. Mother and Father won’t listen to me.” He tried very hard to keep his voice steady. “And besides, my Alpha probably wants a girl Omega anyway, I’m a disgrace.”

“Brendon,” Patrick sounded angry, so Brendon met his burning gaze. “I’m a male Omega. Do you think I’m a disgrace? Am I an affront to God?”

“Of course not!” Brendon said quickly. Patrick was his best friend, his musical mentor, one of the only people in his life that truly loved him. Patrick had saved his life, when he was young and questioning his self worth and religion. Patrick could never be a disgrace to anything.

“And I’m the Alpha to a male Omega, and trust me, I’d have no one else.” Pete added, giving Patrick a brief worshipful look that exactly mirrored the one he’d given him when they’d first met, almost a year ago.

“There’s nothing wrong with you, Brendon.” Patrick said, gaze softening.

Brendon bowed his head, trying not to cry. “Then why are my parents giving me away?”

“Because they’re assholes.” Patrick replied.

“And they’re not giving you away, I won’t let it happen.” Pete added. Brendon couldn't help but doubt that, a little. Pete was relentless and technically an adult, but he was still in high school, and still lived with his parents. The Uries would never listen to him.

Some of his apprehension must have shown on his face, because Pete gave him a reassuring smile, leaning back in his plastic chair.

“I’ll figure it out, Bren, I promise. You won’t have to marry some religious nut Alpha.”

The bell rang, summoning the students to their classes. Brendon gave Pete a tight smile, thanking him, as Patrick put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

He just had to trust his friends.

It was hard to remember that, though, when the next day his mother told him with a tight lipped frown that he wasn’t going to school that day.

“Why not?” Brendon asked, trying not to shuffle his feet on the kitchen floor.

His mother just shook her head, checking the oven. “No more questions. I got you something new, please put it on and wait in your room.” She pointed to the bag on the table and turned her back on him to dig something from the fridge.

Brendon bit his lip, hating the dismissive way she treated him, but nonetheless obeyed. When he opened the bag in the safety of his room, he was horrified to discover a light blue dress and sensible white flats inside. Forcing Omega males into dresses was an archaic practice, now frowned upon by most modern people. It was meant to diminish the Omega’s self worth by associating them with females, the supposedly weaker sex. Brendon threw the offending garment to the floor and curled in his bed, trembling. In that moment, he wanted nothing more than to be the Alpha his parents wanted, if only to make them love him again.

But he couldn’t spend his life in tears. He had to be strong, had to trust that Pete and Patrick would rescue him from this. Slowly, he sat up and began to strip until he stood shivering in his boxers, staring down at the dress and unable to move.

Footsteps on the stairs shocked him from his stupor, and he scrambled to pull the dress over his head until it was settled on his shoulders and swishing at his ankles. It was actually a rather nice feeling, but the humiliation of it made him unable to resist pulling at it, wanting nothing more than to get rid of it again.

A knock sounded at the door, then his mother was opening it. Her face went blank when she saw him, but she nodded a little, clearly satisfied.

“I brought you breakfast,” she said, placing a plate on the nightstand. “We’ll call you down when it’s time.”

“Mom?” Brendon called, when she had turned to leave again. “Mommy, what’s going on?” He clutched the blue fabric until it wrinkled in his fist.

His mother just sighed, turning to face him again. “No more questions, Brendon. And put this on as well.” She threw something on the bed and left. The quiet click of a key turning in lock left Brendon feeling hollow.

The new item was a collar, plain and black but with the Urie crest stitched into it. Brendon instantly hated it, but understood that it was considered necessary. Traditionally, Omegas wore collars with their family crests until they got an Alpha, and wore their crest instead. And his family had always been traditional.

He rebelliously left the collar on the bed beside him, deciding to wait until he was called down again to put it on. Instead he picked at his food until he acknowledged his lack of appetite, and instead started pacing the length of his room.

He wondered what his Soulmate was doing right now, hand unconsciously rising to rub at the crossed drumsticks mark on his shoulder. Soulmates were rare, and some never found each other. Pete and Patrick were exceptionally lucky. Brendon still remembered their first meeting, how the bat on Patrick’s wrist had flapped ecstatically around his skin at Pete’s presence, how Pete had stared at him with pure adoration, the music notes on his collarbone dancing merrily. Brendon had watched them with glee and then, later, dreamed of how his own meeting may go, of a faceless stranger sweeping him off his feet with their really strong arms (they had to be a drummer, after all, right?)

It was no wonder he was an Omega, really, with fantasies like that.

He lost himself in daydreams, desperately not thinking of the dress or the collar or whatever else his parents had planned, when, some time later, his father knocked on the door.

“It’s time, Brendon.”

Brendon scrambled to put on the collar and slip on the shoes then opened the door, looking up at his stone-faced father. The man said nothing, just grabbed Brendon’s wrist and lead him down the stairs. At the bottom was a group of Alphas, their quiet chatter all silencing when they saw him. Brendon tried to scramble back to his room, suddenly understanding what this was all about and terrified, but his father’s grip tightened, yanking him down the stairs.

“Brendon.” He said very seriously. “Amongst these men is your future mate. If you want to make your family proud, you will speak to all of them and present yourself as a respectful and perfectly obedient Omega. Now,” they had reached the bottom of the stairs, where all the Alphas and, Brendon noticed, his mother were waiting. He wanted to cry.

“This is Alpha Jones.”

The next couple hours were a whirlwind of hell for Brendon. Not one of the Alphas he was presented to seemed to actually want to get to know him, instead leering at his body or coolly asking his parents of his health and talents in such things as housework and entertainment, both of which he, suddenly regretfully, excelled in. One man in particular, Alpha Morris, terrified him. There was something dead and malicious in his eyes, and he had made Brendon do a little twirl for him, voice sugary sweet and gaze heavy. His parents seemed to love him though; apparently he had a lot of money. He certainly talked like it, casually dismissive and arrogant. When the Alphas had finally all left, and Brendon was released from his father’s grip, he ran to his room, discarding the dress into a corner and curling up in his bed, trembling at the weight of the objectifying gazes still prickling his skin. He couldn’t deal with this. He was only fifteen, he was supposed to worried about homework and playing video games at Pete’s.

He was supposed to be an Alpha.

Brendon took off the collar and put it on the nightstand, hand immediately rising to rub at the newly bared skin. He didn’t think of what his future would hold, or of Alpha Morris’ oily voice calling him “such a lovely little thing.” Instead, he did as he used to, as a child. His hand rose to grip his shoulder tightly, the Mark warm under his fingers, and he tried to imagine his soulmate.

He fell asleep to the image of ice-blue eyes.

The next day, Pete and Patrick were horrified to hear what had happened.

“They paraded you around?” Pete asked, looking sick. “That’s fucked up, man.”

Brendon just nodded, rubbing at his collar. His parents had demanded he put it back on that morning, and now he was getting weird looks from the students. It was an outdated practice, after all. At least he hadn’t been forced into another dress.

“They’ve started negotiations.” He whispered. “With their favorite, some rich guy named Morris…”

“Oh, Brendon,” Patrick started, but Pete interrupted with a horrified noise.

“Morris? Do you mean Shane Morris?” At Brendon’s nod, Pete shook his head. “No, Brendon, you can’t go to Morris. That guy is fucked up, he beat his last Omega to death and got away with it. He will literally kill you, Bren, your parents can’t let this happen.”

Brendon blanched, his heart pounding in his chest. “He, he killed...?”

Patrick moved from Pete’s side to sit with Brendon, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling it close.

“Shh, breath. It’s okay. Just tell your parents, I’m sure they’ll move on.”

But they didn’t.

“That’s just a silly little rumor.” His mother dismissed, not even looking up from the cookbook. “Now chop the potatoes.”

Brendon did so, looking at her anxiously. “It’s not a rumor, though. I trust the person who told me. And even if it’s fake, there must be a reason for such a rumor, right? There must be something wrong with him. Can’t you find someone else?”

She just sighed. “Brendon, we don’t have a lot of money, and thanks to your status we won’t even have a son to support us when we get old. You can’t get a job, so the only way you can be a respected member of society is if you were to be married. Alpha Morris is being very gracious, considering your gender. You should be more grateful.”

“Mom, please-”

“That’s enough, go to your room, I’ll call you down when you need to set the table.”

Brendon dropped the knife and marched upstairs, wanting to scream. Morris could literally kill him, and his mom didn’t even care. They only wanted money. This wasn't the loving, supportive family he remembered. He wondered if they have ever even loved him at all.

Sudden, cold, determination filled him. He couldn’t marry Morris, he absolutely refused to. If his family wasn’t going to listen to him, he’d have to take matters into his own hands.

Dinner was a quiet affair, with Brendon staring at his plate as his parents talked of their days. When it was over Brendon did the washing up then ran to his room, shutting the door and beginning to pack.

He stuffed clothes, toiletries, an old stuffed animal he couldn’t live without, and, after some hesitation, a picture of his family in his backpack. Then he crept under the covers and waited.

He listened to the light, quick steps of his mother going up the stairs. She paused for a moment at his door, and he heard a quiet sigh. Then she moved on. When the heavier steps of his father passed, they didn’t stop at all.

Soon enough, the house was quiet again. Hours passed before Brendon felt it safe to leave his bed. He grabbed his bag and his guitar in its case, and crept down the stairs, snatching some cash from his mother’s purse before slipping out the door.

He left the collar on his pillow.

Patrick didn’t ask why he was there at such a late time, just gave him a sad look and let him in.

“I’ll call Pete,” he said, once they were on the couch together. “We’ll figure something out.”

Brendon shook his head. “I don’t have much time; they know I’m friends with you. Once they figure out that I’ve run, they won’t stop looking for me. They’re supposed to get a lot of money from selling me off.”

For a moment, Patrick looked lost. “Let’s just...let’s call Pete, ok?” Brendon nodded.

Pete answered within three rings, voice heavy with sleep. “Trick? Was’it? You okay?”

Patrick shook his head a little. “I’m fine, Pete. It’s Bren, he ran away.”

Pete immediately sounded more awake. “Is he with you? Hang on, I’ll be over in ten.” He abruptly hung up and Patrick sighed. “I guess we wait now.”

Brendon looked at the stairs. “Should we wake your parents?”

Patrick hesitated a moment, then shook his head. “They’ll want to talk it out or something, or get the police involved. And we both know the authorities won’t be much help.” Brendon winced but nodded.

The two Omegas sat there in silence, and when Brendon began to shake, the stress of the recent days and the realization of what he had done crashing over him, Patrick drew him close, petting his hair but saying nothing.

Finally, the front door opened, Pete not even bothering to knock as he stepped inside. He closed it carefully, glancing at the stairs, and with an ease of familiarity wove through the dim light until he reached them. He greeted Patrick with a tired smile, then sat on Brendon’s other side and drew him into his lap, holding him close. Brendon whimpered and curled into his chest, taking advantage of the warmth and safety his friend provided. Patrick rubbed his back, murmuring soft words of comfort as Pete huffed out a sigh.

“You have any ideas?” Brendon heard him ask Patrick quietly.

“No, I thought you did, that’s why I called you here.”

“Well, you’re the decision maker.”

“And you’re older and have more experience, plus you have connections everywhere, surely you can do something.”

“I can’t just whip up a-”

“It’s okay.” Brendon interrupted, lifting his head to meet Pete’s concerned gaze. Patrick’s hand stilled on his back. “I’ll take a bus to Vegas, or something. I’ll figure it out, I can’t expect two high-school students to smuggle a runaway Omega from his family.”

“But you should.” Patrick’s tone was fierce, but his voice trembled a bit with emotion. “Brendon, you’re so young, and the world is cruel to Omegas. Let us figure something out.”

Brendon shook his head. “I’ll only end up bringing you two down with me, and I can’t do that to you. You have a future.” Patrick opened his mouth to argue, but Brendon just leaned forward to touch their foreheads, trying to hide the tremble in his body. “I love you, Patrick,” he whispered. “You’re going to be so happy with Pete, and it’s time I grow up and make my own way.”

“You’re fifteen, Bren, you shouldn’t have to grow up.”

“When has the world ever been fair to Omegas?” Brendon asked with a bitter smile. Pete, unusually silent for once, just matched Brendon’s trembles with his own and held him, as if if he gripped him tight enough Brendon wouldn’t have to go to what they all knew would not be easy life. Patrick, in an unusual show of weakness, pressed into Pete’s side until the teen lifted his arm to include him in the embrace.

The three friends sat there as long as they could, trying to shelter out the world that demanded their attention. But when birds starting singing, the soft light of dawn glowing through the gaps in the curtains, they knew their time was up.

Brendon was the first to move, gently extracting himself from his friend’s embrace. “I’ll take a bus to the city,” he murmured, as Pete and Patrick watched him carefully. “I...I have some money, so I’ll be good for a little while. And I can get a job, somewhere, if I try hard enough.”

They all knew that would be next to impossible, but nobody said anything. Patrick just shook his head, standing and walking towards the kitchen, leaving Brendon to watch as Pete dug in his wallet.

“Take it.” He said, holding out several hundred dollar bills. “I got paid yesterday, took out the money in case things got really bad for you. Turns out it was a good idea.”

“I can’t.” Brendon shook his head. “You’re saving for a house, right? I can’t.”

Pete rolled his eyes, grabbing Brendon’s wrist and forcing the money into his hand. There was a desperate fire in his eyes. “Fuck the house, Bren, you know Trick and I are going to be perfectly fine. You’re not. Cities are rough, being young is rough, being a fucking young Omega is going to be pure hell, and I’ll give anything to save you from it. A few hundred dollars is nothing. It will give you a place to stay, some food to eat, and it’ll alleviate the raging guilty conscience I’m already going to be suffering from for letting you do this.”

Brendon found himself choking back tears again. He felt the bills crumble in his hands as he flung his arms around Pete’s neck. “It’s not your fault. It’s not your fault.” He chanted. “I love you.”

“You’re taking these too.” Patrick said behind them, Brendon whirling to see the Omega studiously stuffing his bag with granola bars and fruit cups and other easily transported foods. Brendon knelt to help, then picked up a white bottle, confused. “What’s this?”

“Heat stabilizers, I just got a new stock. You take one when you start to show symptoms; a high fever, itchy skin, irritability, or a sudden need for, well, sex.” He was blushing a little, grabbing the bottle and shoving it in the bag. “Only take one every month, it’ll last you longer.”

“But, don’t you need…?”

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Pete can help me. Or, you know, I can just say I lost them or something.”

The sudden blare of an alarm clock echoed from upstairs. Brendon grabbed the last of the food from the floor, then stood, slinging the bag onto his back and reaching for his guitar case. Pete took it before he could, though. “I’ll drive you to the bus stop.” He said quietly. Brendon nodded, and then Patrick was hugging him, body trembling with repressed tears. He drew back, eyes dry but stricken. “Call me, if you need anything.” He said, very seriously. “And you better fucking take care of yourself, ok?”<

Brendon nodded, allowing himself a last glimpse of his dear friend’s face. Then the lights went on upstairs, Patrick’s mom calling for him to wake up, and Brendon whirled to leave, Pete following with a last kiss to his mate’s lips.

The drive was quiet, the two normally chatty teens unsure of what to say. Outside, the sky brightened into day, birds calling merrily and the traffic light; most people only just beginning their days. Brendon stared out the window, listening to the heavy metal music Pete had turned down low to suit the mood. It felt like an affront to the genre, but he didn’t move to turn it up.

When they arrived, Pete parked the car and lead Brendon into the station, paying for his ticket and walking him all the way to the gate, where he could go no further. There, he shuffled a moment, clearly anxious. Brendon opened his mouth to say goodbye, but Pete interrupted.

“There’s one more thing I’d like to give you, if you don’t mind. It’s not to, like, exert my dominance over you, or something stupid like that. It’s just-” he sighed, and took something from his pocket, handing it over with his head bowed.

Brendon took it, and looked it over. It was a leather bracelet, with Pete’s bat symbol carved into a silver charm woven among the braid.

“I was going to give it to Trick, as a birthday present, which makes it even more creepy. I swear, I’m not trying to make you my second mate or anything, cause no offense but you’re more like my little brother, I just-” Brendon cut him off with a hug.

“Thank you.”

The distant hum of the train arriving separated them, Brendon pressing a quick kiss to Pete’s cheek.

“I love you, Pete, thank you for everything.”

Pete shook his head. “I didn’t do enough,” he whispered, like a confession. “I told you I’d take care of it, and now look at you.”

The train pulled in, people emerging from it’s doors and filling the station with the low hum of conversation.

“You did all you could.” Brendon replied. “But I had to take the first step.” He pulled away, taking a deep breath. “I have to do this myself.”

Pete smiled, brittle, humorless, but proud. “You go be strong, Bren. But call us, okay?”

Brendon nodded, smiling back,, and boarded the train. As he found a seat, he slipped the bracelet on, the leather warm against his skin. Then he sighed and pressed down on his leg to stop it from trembling. He tried to prepare for the next stage of his life.


	2. Vegas Life (For: The Downtrodden)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heed the warnings, if ye be sensitive turn away.

Brendon grew up in Summerlin, which, on a good day, was only a ten minute drive from Vegas. Therefore, he had plenty of memories of the place: the small diner his family gathered at on special occasions, the bowling rink he went to for his middle school graduation, the bright, colorful casinos that enchanted him as a child. 

Now, in his fear and isolation, he saw the truth of the place. As he wandered the streets, backpack straps digging into his shoulders and grip tight on his guitar case, he saw drunks catcalling passing women, alleys shadowed and foreboding, broken glass on the street, and, ahead of him, a lone women, looking just as terrified as he was. 

He tried to match her, took hurried steps and stared straight ahead, stiffening his back. Then he winced and deflated again when the catcallers saw him. 

“Hey, Pretty Boy!”

“You a little Omega? Need a place to stay?”

“C’mon, smile, make it worth our time!”

Brendon ducked his head and practically ran out of their line of sight, thanking every deity he no longer believed in that they were on the other side of the street. 

The woman had disappeared somewhere, and he took a moment to hope she was safe before remembering she was probably in better shape than he was. The smack of his shoes and rush of air as he sped up into a run exhilarated him, especially after such a frightening experience, and, with nothing else to do but let worry consume him, he didn’t bother to stop. People grumbled and shook their heads as he passed, a lone teenager with an unusual amount of luggage, but he paid them little attention, preferring to try to run the fear away. 

Finally he collapsed beneath a palm tree, and took a moment to just breath. Okay, he had to be like Patrick, calm and rational. Except he hadn’t looked calm when Brendon last saw him. He had look scared and upset and shit this was not how he calmed down. 

A whimper escaped the Omega’s throat, and his head fell into his legs as he tried very hard not to cry. He was alone now, he had to survive, had to protect himself against people like those catcallers and Alpha Morris. 

God, he wanted his mother. 

“Hey, you okay?” Somebody’s voice interrupted his mini panic attack, and he raised his head to see a concerned looking Beta man kneeling beside him, a few curious onlookers hovering in the background. Brendon flushed. 

“I-I’m fine,” he said, “just, um, tired.” 

The man looked unconvinced. “Sure, kid.” 

“Really!” Brendon stood, giving him a fake, bright smile. “I’m fine, thanks for the concern.” He walked away swiftly. He knew he couldn’t rely on anyone’s help, as they might get the authorities involved, which would end in his parents finding him again. And he couldn’t let that happen. 

He turned the corner then leaned against the concrete wall of the building beside him, trying to dismiss the shakiness and weakness he still felt. 

He was strong, right? 

Pete and Patrick said he was strong. 

Well, whether he was strong or not, he stuck here, with no other choice than to survive. 

He spent the rest of the day trying to get hired, ducking into every little store he could see and asking if they needed any help. He got a lot of smiles and nods before people began to realize he was an Omega, and their smiles turned into frowns and pitying apologies. Many asked where his family was or, eyeing his bare neck, his Alpha, and every time Brendon just shook his head and ducked out. It took almost twenty rejections for him to finally give up for the day. He ate lunch in a small, cramped diner, and finally took his phone from his pocket. 

Both Pete and Patrick had sent him texts, asking how he was and if he was okay. He responded to each without elaborating, just reassuring them he was still alive. Then he began to look up nearby motels, as the sky was steadily beginning to darken outside, even as the lights retained their fake brightness. 

As he looked over the options, he bit his lip. There were some moderately priced places nearby, but he wouldn’t be able to stay long if he wanted to save his limited funds. All the really cheap motels were further away, in really sketchy parts of the city, and after his experience earlier Brendon didn’t feel safe enough to brave it. 

The walk to the cheapest place nearby, generically called “Golden Sun Inn” wasn’t long, but he felt his exhaustion begin to weigh on him. Brendon had walked almost all day, and while his ADHD usually made him restless and jittery, now he wanted nothing more than to sleep. 

But when he finally got there, all that greeted him was more trouble. 

“I’m sorry, hun,” the woman at the desk said, long acrylic nails tapping on the counter. “If you have no legal guardian or Alpha, we can’t give you a room.” 

He knew he would face more challenges for his status, but this was ridiculous. “That can’t possibly be company policy. I’m just on vacation.” That was a flat out lie, but she was irritating him, and what was he going to say anyway? “You can’t deny me a place to stay if I have the money to pay for it.” 

She frowned at him. “However you got the money-” here she looked him up and down, raising an eyebrow at his ratty t-shirt and girl’s jeans- “we don’t have to accept it. You’re clearly underage as well.” 

Brendon bristled. “I’m not going to use the room to whore myself out in, if that’s what you’re thinking.” 

Her gaze grew cold. “If you can’t pull a guardian from midair, I must ask you to leave.” 

He did so in a huff, then immediately shivered as the cold desert air hit his bare skin outside. 

“Dammit,” he whispered, kicking at the ground. It looked like he was going to have to go to one of the cheaper places anyway. It wasn’t like they would turn down sketchy looking Omega boys, especially if they were potential whores. 

His phone led him down a series of streets, growing darker and less crowded at every turn. The tremble in his bones began again, the fear racing through his mind irritating him now as his exhaustion demanded he rest. Thankfully, the walk was free of incident, and he approached the ratty, dilapidated motel his phone informed him had a staggering half star rating on Yelp. The sign flickered the name “Purple Cat,” with half the letters dead and a frankly terrifying purple cat statue frozen in a wave outside the door of the reception. 

The inside proved just as impressive as the outside, with horrific purple wallpaper and tacky purple decorations, but the receptionist didn’t turn him away. Instead, the man just stated the price in a bored, monotone voice, and, when Brendon paid, handed over the key and went back to his TV. 

Brendon paid little attention to the contents of his room, just taking a moment to be grateful for the lock on the door and the presence of a bed, weirdly smelling as it was. He took off his backpack with a relieved sigh, putting the guitar case and the bag beside his bed. He didn’t even bother to brush his teeth or anything, pausing only to plug in his phone to charge before passing out on the bed. 

He awoke to a fuzzy feel in his mouth and and the overwhelming sight of purple everywhere. The walls, the carpet, the covers, all were somehow the exact shade of purple. The brochure on the nightstand had the waving cat from outside the reception area cheerfully telling him to enjoy the accommodations. Brendon just shuddered and got up to brush the fuzziness from his teeth. 

Except the water was a light shade of brown, and he had to stand back and eye it, disgusted, for roughly thirty seconds before it finally began to run clear. Still, he only used it to wet his toothbrush a little, foregoing a shower with the rationality that it might make him even dirtier. He stared into the grimy mirror and pushed his bangs back, wishing he looked more like an employable young man and less like a gangly teenager with an emo haircut. He tried to find an expression that would impress somebody, that made him look more responsible, but then realized making faces in the mirror was hardly helping his cause. 

He still had the room for another night so he left his guitar and a few things from his backpack in there, lightening the load. Then he once again set off to try to find a job. 

In the daylight, the streets surrounding the Purple Cat were less foreboding, and the storefronts were busy and thriving. Brendon was once again rejected by employer after employer. Twice, he almost got a job, until the managers there asked for his paperwork, and he was forced to tell them he didn’t have any. He didn’t really blame them for dismissing him after that. 

Around noon, he entered a record store called Way Records, and was immediately awed. From the speakers pounded the exact kind of music his parents would have banned, the kind he knew Pete liked, and the small space was crammed with shelves holding every type of music he could have dreamed of. Artwork covered the walls, depicting graphic scenes of horror and fantasy, with an odd fixation on vampires. It reminded him heavily of Pete, and he felt a wave of homesickness overwhelm him. 

The beta man at the counter fit the aesthetic well, his skin pale and his hair dark, back bent over a half-finished painting similar to the ones on the walls. His hands were splattered with paint and his eyes were intent and focused, but he smiled readily enough when Brendon approached. 

“Hi, how can I help you?” He asked, putting the paintbrush aside and running a hand through his hair, streaking it with paint. Brendon bit his lip, hardly daring to hope. 

“Are you hiring?” He asked timidly, and as the man’s face fell a little he knew the answer before it was said. 

“No, I’m sorry. My brother and I can hardly afford our rent, we just can’t take on another employee.” Brendon sighed and turned to go, but the man called him back. “Hey, you look tired. You can sit if you want, relax a bit. It must be hard to go job hunting as an Omega.” His tone wasn’t patronizing, rather sympathetic, so Brendon turned and decided to humor him. His feet were absolutely aching by now anyway.

“It really is hard,” he said, slowly sitting on a stool the man pointed out next to him behind the counter. Brendon looked at the painting rather than meeting the man’s eyes. 

“I’m sure, and I really am sorry I can’t help.” The beta held out a hand. “I’m Gerard, by the way.” 

“Brendon,” he said, shaking Gerard’s hand quickly. “Thank you for letting me sit here.” 

Gerard shrugged. “It’s fine, I was getting a little lonely anyway. Hey, you can pick the music, if you don’t mind me not talking much. I’m really caught up in this painting. And anything would be better than this, some customer put it on. It’s something under the Ross label; full of angry dad issues.” 

“Oh,” Brendon blinked at him. “Okay then.” Gerard nodded and picked up the brush again. 

The Omega watched the other male paint for a little while, until Gerard huffed a little. 

“Can you choose something else to put on?” He repeated, filling in some blood around a vampire’s fangs. Brendon jumped then nodded. 

The CDs were neatly arranged, so he was able to easily locate an album he knew Patrick liked. He watched Gerard paint some more and tried not to feel too sad as he remembered his best friend in the songs that filled the store. 

He picked two more albums and played them in their entirety before he decided he should go. Gerard watched him pick up his backpack in between reaching for more paint, and smiled at him when Brendon was ready to go. 

“Good luck, Brendon,” he said solemnly. 

Brendon smiled back. “Thank you for everything.”

It felt weird to step back outside again, after such a long time in the relative quiet of Way Records. Brendon fished a granola bar from his pack and then set out to continue his search. 

Said search ended at a corner store, where, faced with the oncoming night once more, he was forced at admit defeat for the day and, while he was at there, stock up a little on some food. 

He was just reaching for a bag of chips when the little bell at the door rang, a large Alpha stumbling in smelling strongly of whiskey. The man’s glazed eyes scanned the shelves until they settled on the liquor aisle, and he immediately set off for it. Brendon tried to make himself as inconspicuous as possible, but the Alpha must have scented him, because he suddenly stiffened on his way past, turning to face Brendon instead. 

“What’s a little thing like you doing in a place like this?” He asked, the leer on his lips reminding Brendon of Alpha Morris. Brendon shook his head. 

“N-nothing,” he stuttered, putting the chips back and taking a careful step in the direction of the door. The Alpha grinned, though, and moved to block his exit. 

“You shouldn’t be out all alone, Pretty Boy.” The stink of whiskey intensified as he leaned forward, invading Brendon’s space. He also smelt of something else, something heavy and musky. “See, you keep going around, looking all tempting and all, and an Alpha might want to take advantage.” 

Brendon went white, taking another step back hastily. “I’ll be fine, really. I should really go, my family is waiting.” 

The Alpha ignored him. “See, my rut is starting, and I need a companion of sorts to keep me company. Care to help a man out, Pretty Boy?” 

That explained the musky smell. Brendon shook his head, shooting a look at the cashier, who looked hesitant to interfere. He would have to save himself, then.

“I’m very busy, I’m sorry,” he tried to duck out and make a break for it, but the intoxicated man was unexpectedly fast, and grabbed a hold of his wrist in a grip tight as steel. 

“You’re gonna help me out,” he slurred, dragging Brendon to the liquor aisle so he could grab a bottle, then moving on to the the counter. Brendon struggled until it felt like his wrist would dislocate, but the sad fact of the matter was that Alphas were physically stronger than Omegas, especially fifteen year old ones puberty had left short and thin. He met the cashier’s eyes, knowing that all his terror was reflected in his desperate gaze. 

“Please,” he whispered. “Please, help me. Call somebody, anything, please.” The Alpha grunted and squeezed his wrist until something snapped, Brendon almost collapsing as pain ripped like fire down his arm. He hadn’t wanted to cry, when he first got here, but considering the circumstances he felt justified as tears fell hot from his cheeks. 

The cashier looked away. “That will be $7.50,” she said quietly. Brendon choked out a sob. 

“Please,” he repeated, as the Alpha struggled to pay one-handed. “You know what he’s going to do.” His vision was blurring, heart pounding almost audibly in his chest, but the cashier was still not looking at him. 

“Thank you for your purchase,” was all she said. Brendon realized she was a Beta, and the Alpha could probably crush her with his pinky finger. He still could not forgive her. 

The Alpha just grunted in acknowledgement before dragging Brendon outside, ignoring the Omega’s pained whimpers. The moment the door shut behind them Brendon opened his mouth to scream, but cut himself off with a choking cry when the Alpha squeezed again, bones grinding in his likely broken wrist. 

The Alpha pulled him to a nearby shadowed alley and threw him to the ground, taking a deep draught from the whiskey. The alley was a dead end; Brendon was trapped. 

“Ya shouldn’t scream, Pretty Boy,” the Alpha muttered. “Won’t do you any good anyway, no one gives a shit about abandoned Omegas.” And if the police were involved, he would have to go back to his parents. Brendon sat on the dirty ground and cried in earnest as the Alpha drank again. 

“M’not gonna kill ya,” he said, holding the bottle up in a salute. “Just gonna take up a bit of your time. That’s alright, right? Just need some of your time.” He dropped the bottle and knelt, grabbing Brendon’s ankle and pulling. 

Brendon scrambled away. “No, no, don’t, please.” The tears were almost blinding him now, wrist throbbing in time with his racing pulse. “I’m a virgin, please, I don’t want-”

The Alpha grabbed his ankle again and yanked until Brendon was on his back, still desperately struggling. “Just makes you sweeter,” he leered, gripping Brendon’s shirt and ripping it off. 

Brendon punched him in the face, but was just laughed at. He tried to knee him in the balls but the Alpha used his legs to pin Brendon’s own. The Alpha just kept at his task of stripping him, throwing his backpack to the side and ripping off his jeans and underwear impatiently. His sheer power was terrifying; Brendon was completely powerless against him. 

His parents had taught him little to nothing of sex ed; everything he knew came from Patrick’s awkward explanations that they both blushed through but Patrick insisted on. So he kind of knew what to expect, but it still hurt when the Alpha pressed inside with a grunt, the musky scent now overpowering. Brendon’s mouth opened but nothing came out. A shard of glass was digging into his back, and he was finally quiet. It hurt too much to beg for it to stop. 

The Alpha’s thrusts were powerful, and he seemed almost animalistic, not speaking in favor of just taking what he wanted. He was heavy and sweaty and his grip on Brendon’s hips was bruising. 

It didn’t last long. Soon enough, something at the base of the Alpha’s cock began to grow, and he forced it inside until Brendon was sure he was going to tear. Then, the Alpha stilled, settling his entire weight down and making it difficult for Brendon to breath. His rapist let out a deep, satisfied sigh.  
Both were silent as they waited for the knot to go down, the only sounds the distant traffic and Brendon’s short, gasping breaths. When he finally slipped out the Alpha stood and, still silent, left. 

Brendon didn’t know how long he lay there, but eventually he tried to get up, only to fall back down again with a whine of agony. The glass dug into his back once more, making him yelp, so finally he just rolled over and sobbed. 

“Well, aren’t you a hot mess,” a low voice drawled. Brendon jumped, whirling around again and scrambling back, grabbing his torn shirt and trying to hide himself with it. 

“No, no, no,” he gasped, watching as a tall Alpha walked towards him, smirking. “No, please, I’ve already lost my purity, I can’t, not again-” 

“Oh, quiet, you.” The newcomer rolled his eyes. “I’m here to help. Come on, get up.” 

Brendon shook his head, still trying to get away but unable to do much without the pain almost crippling him. The newcomer kicked at him a bit, then sighed and leaned down to pick him up. Brendon didn’t bother to struggle anymore, just burst into tears again, naked and bloody in an unknown Alpha’s arms. He’d never felt so low. 

His backpack was placed on his stomach, then the Alpha stood and carried him a car parked outside the corner store. The cashier stood outside, head low as she exchanged a few words with the newcomer, then accepted some money from him and darted back inside.

The Omega was placed in the backseat of the car, curled in on himself to protect his modesty and try to make the pain go away. The Alpha slipped into the driver’s seat and whirled to look at him, smiling. 

“I was telling the truth, you know, I really do want to help. Where have you been staying, kid? Oh, yeah, and I’m Gabe.” 

Brendon just curled in on himself tighter, clutching the backpack. Gabe sighed. 

“Look, I’m not gonna rape you, kid. I have a Soulmate, see?” He held out his arm to show the scorpion curled in the crook of his elbow. His smile grew. “He has a cobra on his back, it’s awesome.” 

Brendon unfurled a little, but was still weary. What kind of person just kidnapped traumatized Omegas anyway?” 

“What are you going to do with me?” He asked, then mentally winced; his voice was quiet and shaky, as frail as he felt. Gabe shrugged. 

“For now, I’ll give you a place to stay, and some food and medical attention, you’re bleeding all over my seats. You can pay me back later. But if you’re staying with me, you need all your shit, so where you staying, kid?” 

If Gabe really was kidnapping him, Brendon at least wanted his guitar with him. “The Purple Cat. And it’s Brendon.” 

Gabe laughed, starting the car and pulling into the street. “Really, the Ol’ Pussy? Fuck, I love that place. The decorating is fantastic.” 

Brendon said nothing, just stared out the window and shivered. His wrist throbbed, and there was blood and cum trickling out of him. He wasn’t really up to conversation. 

Gabe didn’t seem to mind his silence, just babbled cheerfully about, for some reason, the various snake species of Nevada. His knowledge was impressive, so the one-sided conversation lasted them the entire drive back to the Purple Cat. Once there, Gabe took the key Brendon silently gave him, then ducked inside. Brendon remained still in the backseat, not even bothering to try to run. He wasn’t even sure he could walk right now, and it wasn’t like there was anywhere he could go. He wished he had just stayed at Way Records for the rest of the day, maybe he would have met Gerard’s brother. He certainly never would have ended up raped and bleeding in an alley. 

He shivered and tried not to cry again. His virginity was one of the few things he had had left, the one thing that he could gift his Soulmate with as a pretty much homeless runaway. He had been taught to treasure his purity his entire life; even Pete and Patrick had taken a while to get to that stage in their relationship, both wanting it to be special. Brendon had been quietly proud to be so pure, had been willing to wait as long as it took to find his Soulmate before giving it up. He would have waited forever if that’s what it took. 

And in less than half an hour some stranger had torn that from him. 

Maybe he had made a mistake coming here. The city was no place for a teenage Omega boy, it was dangerous and foolish to believe he could strike up a living here and avoid the more shady parts of Vegas. Maybe Pete had been wrong, and Alpha Morris wouldn’t have killed him. Brendon was sure that if he’d been good and obedient he might have been able to live with the man. 

But what kind of life would that be? He would be completely subservient and almost a slave. It would be a hellish, abusive life, and he might even not have Pete and Patrick. 

But he wouldn’t have be raped and then kidnapped by a stranger either. 

Speaking of, who was Gabe anyway? The man hadn’t tried to hurt him or anything, and was even being kind enough as to get his things and give him a place to stay. But there was no way he had just stumbled upon Brendon, he acted like he knew exactly what had happened, and he paid the shop owner for something. He was clearly shady, but it wasn’t like there was much Brendon could do. In the position he was in, he clearly needed medical aid and somewhere quiet to stay, and if left on his own he could very well die of an infection or something because he couldn’t even walk to a clinic, let alone pay for it. Gabe was his only hope at the moment, shady as he was. 

Brendon trembled at the very thought. 

The door to his room opened, Gabe stepping out with his guitar case and the miscellaneous items Brendon had taken from his backpack balancing in his arms. Brendon hurried to pull a hoodie from his bag and throw it over his knees just as the Alpha opened the car door. 

“You’re a musician, huh?” He said, tossing Brendon’s things in with him and giving him a large grin with too many teeth. Brendon nodded a little, unsure.  
“I dabble,” he confirmed, a little cautious. The glint in Gabe’s eyes was concerning him. 

“Good, that’s good.” Gabe closed the door and slid into the driver’s seat, pulling out to the street and taking off to places unknown. “You play piano, kid?”  
“A little.” He had taken lessons since he was six years old.

“That’s great, that’s gonna help a lot.” 

“Help with what?” Brendon bristled a little. 

“Don’t worry your little head about it, kid. Just sit there and look pretty.” 

“But-”

“Do you really want to know what I’m gonna do with you so soon after your ordeal? I’ll tell you what I want in exchange for this kindness later, for now you’ll come to my place and I’ll fix you up.” 

So he did want something. “Tell me, it will just torment me otherwise.” 

“That’s too bad.” Gabe turned the radio on, choosing a loud rock song that effectively ended any further attempts at conversation. Brendon sighed and packed his bag again, then pulled out a pair of pants. Attempting to shimmy into them one handed and without aggravating his injuries proved almost impossible, especially when Gabe sharply swerved every time he got close, effectively ruining his attempts. By the third time he did it Brendon began to realize it may be deliberate, and looked up to see Gabe eyeing him in the mirror, amusement glinting in his eyes. Clearly, he didn’t want Brendon dressed. 

Brendon welcomed the anger that filled him at the thought, as it drowned out the pain and the part of him that wanted nothing more than to curl in a ball and cry. Also, the anger could explain away the humiliated flush on his cheeks. 

He tried again, but Gabe took a particularly sharp turn, causing Brendon to fall on his injured wrist. Instantly, the anger was gone and he was sobbing and cradling it to his chest. God, his life had taken a miserable turn. The rest of the drive was uneventful but for Brendon’s soft cries drowned out by Gabe’s heavy music. 

They parked in a grimy parking lot, then Gabe was opening Brendon’s door and snatching the jacket from his legs, and the backpack and discarded pants from his side. Brendon made half-hearted grabs for them, but his nerves felt completely frazzled, his mind a buzz of misery, and he knew the smartest thing to do was exactly what the Alpha demanded of him. 

Still, he balked when Gabe motioned for him to leave the car and step out into public completely naked. 

“No,” he gasped, scrambling back in the seat. “No, that’s shameful, it's slanderous, I can’t-”

Gabe grinned. “Alright then, I’ll just leave you here, then.” Then he grabbed the guitar case as well and turned to leave. Brendon panicked. 

“You can’t leave me!” He fell to the pavement in his haste, almost screaming at the pain that ripped through his body. “I need my things, I need-” His guitar, his phone, his money, his heat blockers, he would be good as dead-

Gabe was watching him, ever-present smirk on his lips. “Come along then.” 

Brendon tried, he honestly did, but the pain was overwhelming and he just crashed back down to the ground, feeling the small rocks leave sharp little wounds on his knees. “I-I can’t.”

The Alpha growled, and Brendon tried again, finally able to stand, albeit unsteadily. Gabe nodded and started to walk away. 

People watched him as they crossed the street to an apartment building. There were cat calls and laughs and whistles from everywhere, and Brendon wanted nothing more than to just sink into the floor. He looked at the ground and focused on putting one foot in front of another, knowing everyone could see his heavy limp and the blood and come trickling down his legs, his scrawny figure and never ending trembles. Gabe greeted a few of the loiterers, laughing with some and waving at others. At least he didn’t stop until they had entered the building and were on the elevator going up. 

He looked over Brendon’s shivering, naked frame, slumped in pain and humiliation, and sighed a little, the smirk for once fading. 

“Look, I’m sorry to do that to you, but you need to get used to it. This is going to be hard enough for you already.” 

Brendon was spared by answering by the elevator doors opening with a cling, showing off a thankfully empty hallway. The carpet provided a nice respite from the asphalt for his raw feet, and the apartment they entered offered much-needed privacy. 

Well, mostly. 

Gabe put his things in a corner then hummed, stretching a little. 

“I suggest you take a shower, you’re getting blood everywhere. I’ll call a doctor I know to fix that.” 

“Can I please have some clothes?” Brendon whispered, still trying to hide himself in any way possible. Gabe just shrugged.

“Why? I have the heat on.” Then he was pulling out his phone and waving Brendon away. “Bathroom’s through the kitchen to the right, you can’t miss it. Don’t stain my carpets or you’ll be licking them clean.” His words were odd, but his tone was hard, so Brendon knew he wasn’t joking. The Omega nodded and made his slow, unsteady way to the bathroom, hearing Gabe start to call somebody. 

The hot water was both overwhelming and unbelievably relaxing. He bathed quickly, trying not to touch himself to much. He felt dirty, filthy, even when he was finished. Not wanting to leave the soothing spray of water, he sat on the shower floor to watch the water bead on the pink shower wall, the drops running down and down the tiles. It was so easy to just sit there and watch the water, and it meant he didn’t have to think about what had just happened, so he didn’t bother to get out and face whatever Gabe had waiting for him. 

Brendon wondered what Pete and Patrick were doing. Hopefully, they weren’t too worried about him. Just because he was miserable didn’t mean he wished it on his dearest friends. The memory of Patrick’s face, scared and open, flashed through his mind and he swiftly refocused on the water. The droplets were racing each other. He watched to see which one would win. 

He jumped when somebody knocked hard on the door, Gabe calling for him to get his fantastic ass out there; the doctor was here. 

A small towel waited on the closed toilet, Brendon drying himself as well as he could then acknowledging how silly he would look trying to use the soaking square of cloth to cover himself. He sighed, eyes closing a moment. Gabe was talking with somebody, a woman by the sound of it. He hoped she was nice. 

He left the towel on the drying rack and opened the door slowly, seeing a dark haired woman laughing and sitting at the counter. Gabe’s eyes lit up when he saw him. 

“Come on out, kid, Vicky's here to look you over.” Brendon emerged, immediately stepping behind the counter to hide himself from the waist down.  
“Hello, Miss,” he murmured, not looking her in the eyes. She looked nice, but then so did his parents. You could trust little from how a person presented themselves to others. Plus, she was an Alpha, and he had learned to trust them even less. 

“Hello,” she greeted, smiling at him. Then her eyes narrowed a bit, and she looked at Gabe. 

“Christ, Gabe, they just keep getting younger, don’t they?” 

Gabe rolled his eyes. “Please, I’m doing him a favor, some brute found him first. He’s probably torn, and the fucker shattered his wrist. Just need you to fix him up a bit, yeah? I’ll give him the choice when he recovers.” 

Vicky shook her head, standing. “Is it really a choice when they’re homeless?” The Alpha huffed. 

“Whether it is or not, I take care of them. They’re all grateful, and this one-” his hand fell, heavy, on Brendon’s shoulder- “will be the same. Now come on, kid, let’s get you horizontal.” He steered Brendon to the couch, Vicky following as she snapped gloves to her hands. Brendon began to tremble again; his body ached from the near constant shivers. 

Gabe guided him to lay on his stomach on the couch, his hand pressing down on the back of Brendon’s head to lower it into the cushions. 

“Just lay there and let Vicky do her thing, okay? Don’t move too much, all it’ll accomplish is hurting you more.”

“Stop scaring the boy,” he heard Vicky say. “Go call William or something, tell him about your new boytoy.” 

“Gladly.” Gabe’s footsteps faded to the kitchen again. Vicky pressed a cold hand to Brendon”s back, making him jump and muffle a scared whimper into his good arm, the other stretched in front of him. 

“What’s your name?” She asked quietly, petting him a little. Brendon told her, just as quietly. 

“Brendon, I’m going to have to touch you where he did, to check the damage. It’s going to hurt, and I’m sorry, but I have to. Do you understand?” Brendon whimpered again, eyes stinging as he screwed them shut, but he nodded nonetheless. 

Her hands were cold, but gentle, and she was fast. It didn’t hurt nearly as much as it did when he was raped, but it still felt wrong and invasive. When she was done she hummed a little in thought, then had him sit up again to look over his wrist. She was just applying a splint to it with materials from the open medical bag beside her when Gabe came back in. 

“Diagnosis?” He asked, leaning against the doorframe. Victoria finished then stood, stripping the gloves off.

“Ointment, fiber, hydration, pain pills, the usual. He’ll be good enough for you to do your thing in about a week, really. But you take care of him, okay? He’s too fucking young for this.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” Gabe was smirking at him again. Brendon stared hard at the carpet. “He’ll be fine, really. You could even say I’m saving him.” 

“You could, yeah.” Vicky sounded disapproving. “I have to go back to my shift. See you later?” 

“Of course.” Gabe opened the door for her graciously, then tilted his head at Brendon. “Just you and me again, kid. Let’s get you to your room.” 

“What are you planning to do with me?” Brendon asked, as he was led to a small guestroom. Gabe shook his head. “You’ve been through enough shit today. Go to sleep, yeah? Here,” he tossed Brendon’s phone on the bed with the charger, as well as a white bottle. “Reassure your friends, that damned thing keeps buzzing at me. And take a pill, it’ll help with the pain.” Then he left, the door shutting with a little click behind him. 

Sure enough, after he swallowed a pill down and had slipped under the covers, his phone lit up, showing that Patrick was calling. Brendon stared at it a moment, then answered. 

“Oh my god, you answered. Brendon, are you okay? Oof, Pete, get off me.” 

“Brendon! You haven’t answered for a while, we got worried! Stop pushing me, Trick, come on-” 

Brendon smiled a little, imagining Pete clambering over his mate to shout into the phone. “I’m fine, guys,” he lied. “Been looking for a job, got a bit caught up.”  


“How’s that going?” Pete asked.

“Um, it’s difficult. But I’ll be okay.” 

“Are you sure?” Shit, Patrick sounded suspicious. It was almost impossible to bullshit him. 

“Yeah, uh, I have a place to stay. The money is really helping, Pete.”

“Oh, good! Glad I thought to take it out.” 

Brendon swallowed. “So, what are my parents…”

Patrick sounded worried now. “They’re looking for you, took out a runaway Omega report and the police have been alerted. They came to ask us a lot of questions.”

“Apparently Morris is pissed.” Pete added.

“Great.” Well, at least Gabe seemed like the type to avoid police anyway. Maybe staying here wouldn’t be so bad. “Well, I should go to sleep. I’ll talk to you later?”  


“Yeah,” Patrick replied. “Hey, Bren...I miss you.”

Oncoming tears made his parting words a bit choked. “I miss you too, Patrick. I love you, both of you.” Then he hung up before they said anything else, and cried himself to sleep. Instead of blue eyes, his dreams were haunted by nightmares of the scent of whiskey and a strong, bruising grip pressing him down. 

The next couple of days were of healing. Gabe was gone for most of the day usually, but when he returned he always checked on Brendon’s wounds a little too closely, before making the Omega sit on his lap while they ate takeout and watched TV. Apparently, there was a bit of a scandal with Ryan Ross, CEO of Ross Labels. He’d been spotted with drugs, or something. Brendon didn’t really care, too busy reminiscing about Way Records. Sitting in Gabe’s lap made Brendon flush through the entire ordeal, but there wasn’t much he could do. As much as he hated it, Gabe had power over him now. 

At least Gabe had kept true to his word; other than the dubious touching, the Alpha had never gone any further with him. And the reason for this came around every once in awhile in the form of William, a tall Omega with long hair and a smirk that perfectly matched that of his mate’s. The cobra peeked over his shoulder at Brendon when they were introduced, and Brendon had felt a familiar tug of longing for his Soulmate, though he doubted he was wanted anymore anyway. His gift was stolen. 

When William came over, he and Gabe would disappear into Gabe’s room and be very loud, leaving Brendon locked in his room, which was right next to Gabe’s, to squirm in his bed and try to block out the noises. He started trying to sing to block it out, until Gabe knocked on the wall and shouted for him to sing louder; it provided a nice mood. After that, Brendon was too mortified to make any noise during the ordeals. 

Finally, a week later, Gabe checked him then hummed. “I think you’re ready, kid.” He said, sounding excited. “Come now, on my lap. Let me explain what I do with pretty Omegas like you.” 

Brendon found those words understandably terrifying, and after he’d done what he was told he waited, almost wishing he was still too injured. Gabe smiled at him, reaching up to curl his hair, which had gotten annoyingly longer. 

“Have you ever heard of prostitution?” He asked. Brendon flinched at the word, but nodded. Gabe’s smile widened. 

“Well, every good whore needs a better pimp to help them along, and I provide this service for a lot of Omegas down on their luck…” Brendon caught on quickly, trying to scramble from the man’s lap, but Gabe held on tight. 

“You can’t mean, I won’t, I’m not a-” Gabe slapped a hand over his mouth, rolling his eyes. Brendon despaired that he could be restrained with only one hand.  


“Look, kid, I’m giving you a choice here, and I expect to be listened to, understand?” Brendon nodded, watching wearily as the Alpha removed his hand. 

“Now, if you don’t accept my offer, I’ll let you back on the streets, and whatever happens to you there, I won’t interfer. That means no more alley pick-ups when some asshole wants your asshole, understand?” Brendon nodded again, flushing a little. 

“But-" here Gabe’s eyes glazed a bit as he looked the naked Omega up and down- “if you accept my offer, I’ll provide you with a nice apartment, a steady supply of food, heat blockers, and a collar with my seal on it, which will make every Alpha in the city know they shouldn’t dare touch you without my permission You’ll even get 10% of the revenue. All you’ll have to do-” he ran a hand up Brendon’s flank- “is loan this sweet body out when I tell you to.” 

Brendon jerked away from his touch, shaking his head. “I can’t, Gabe, it’ll be sinning. I’m tainted already-”

Gabe grabbed his hair, pulling him down to meet his eyes, gaze hard. “Look, kid, I like you. You’re strong enough not to have completely broken down after your ordeal, even after your clearly fucked up upbringing telling you you should’ve, and you have a Soulmate, meaning you won’t go running off with some controlling dick. Also, your ass alone could earn me thousands. I don’t want to see you as the next Omega raped to death in some alley, and I want to be able to keep an eye on you. You won’t be getting any other job; this is probably the best opportunity you could have gotten. So, you’re going to go to your room and think this over. If by tomorrow morning you’re still saying no, I’ll kick you out myself. But I think you’re smarter than that.” The ground fell out from under Brendon as Gabe pushed him to the floor. “Go on, then.” 

Brendon did, hearing Gabe follow closely and lock the door the moment Brendon was inside. The Omega sat on his bed and stared at the wall ahead of him, taking in the horrible magenta wallpaper. He remembered what Vicky had said, how he didn’t really have a choice. He wondered if he ever will, if he’ll just go through life getting every choice stolen from him. 

Gabe was right, of course. There really was no other option. Hopefully, it wouldn’t hurt as much as his first time. 

Hopefully, Gabe would be careful with who he ‘loaned’ him out to. 

Hopefully, his Soulmate would forgive him. 

No matter how impossible that seemed. 

In the morning, when Gabe opened the door and smirked at him like he already knew the answer, Brendon nodded. 

“I’ll do it. I’ll be your whore.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finals are starting. I wrote this chapter with only a rough idea and the fucking characters decided to drag it along for way to long. I regret everything.  
> Ryan's in the next chapter. Give me, like, a week or two, depends on how many trips my friends force me into and how much the two essays I have to write kick my ass.  
> I've never been to Vegas, did you notice?


	3. Good Boys Gone Bad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, and that it's so short. This wasn't even supposed to come out yet, but I'm avoiding the hell out of studying and wrote until I considered it good enough. Anyway, introducing another main character: Ryan Ross.

Two Years Later

A phone was ringing, right next to his ear. Brendon growled at it, willing it to stop it’s insistent racket and let him sleep, but it just kept going. Resigned, he shifted in his bed, blinking the sleep from his eyes and answering it, rolling over to stare at the white ceiling. 

“The fuck do you want?” He asked, the moment the call went through. Somebody laughed on the other line. 

“If you don’t want that new album, that’s fine.” Gerard said, lightly teasing. 

Brendon reached up to tug his hair from his eyes. 

“No, no, of course I want it. Did it come in last night or something?”

Gerard laughed again. “No, this morning. It’s noon, dumbass. Your boss keep you up again?” 

Brendon remembered the latest client Gabe had him service, the beefy brute who’d shoved him to the ground and choked him with his cock until Brendon had managed to shove him away and tell him such roughness cost extra. The man had gentled after that. 

“Yeah,” he swallowed, throat still a bit sore. “He had me working late on some new project.” Gabe had scowled at the man when Brendon told him everything and had him pay extra anyway. The man had called him a weak bitch as he’d left. Brendon had been too busy counting out his share to care. “So, you have the album?” 

“Yeah, set it aside and everything. Such favoritism for my favorite Omega.”

Brendon grinned, rolling out of bed to grab the nearest set of pants. He dropped them when he realized they hadn’t been pants at all, but the sheer stockings he’d worn last night. 

“Well, the favoritism is appreciated, I assure you. I’ll be over in a bit, need to wake up.” 

“Yeah, yeah, see you.” Gerard hung up. 

As it turned out, finding normal clothes was difficult in Brendon’s room. Almost everything he owned was part of the costumes Gabe kept gifting him, so he found countless miniskirts and crop tops, and other things in leather, lace, or leopard print, all tacky as hell and scattered with too many sequins to be healthy, but hey, they made him look like the whore he was. He finally threw on some jeans that were probably indecently tight and a band shirt he’d packed when he ran away, now faded and thin. After he’d relieved himself, he stared into the mirror in his bathroom, sighing at the makeup smears he hadn’t quite been able to get rid of last night, particularly the deep red lipstick Gabe had him to wear every night he worked, because it accented his dick-sucking lips or something. 

A few minutes with a makeup wipe and his lips were red more because of the rubbing than the makeup, so he counted it a win and wandered into the kitchen to grab some cereal. 

After he’d sat down he checked his phone, face falling as he saw a text from Patrick, simply reading 'Please, talk to me. I’m scared for you.' After the first client Gabe had sent him to, after he’d been forced into slutty clothes and had been told to beg the man for his cock, Brendon had realized it was best for him to cut off ties. He was a terrible liar, and if his dear old friends ever realized what he’d sunk to doing for a living, they’d drop everything to help, and probably just end up in the gutter with him. 

And he’d do anything to prevent that, even drift away from the people who’d probably saved his life. 

Brendon rubbed a hand over his face and sighed deeply, leaving the text to join the hundreds of others in his notifications. Instead, he ate quickly before shrugging into his jacket and slipping on the lone pair of sneakers next to a long line of ankle-breaking heels (the first time he’d worn them, he’d almost done just that. Gabe had ended up assigning learning to walk properly in them to him as ‘homework,’ and when he still hadn’t perfected it the next day had given him a terrifying, brutal client. Brendon soon learned to walk in heels and with a heavy limp.)

After stuffing his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets, he paused at the door. One hand reached up to the thick leather collar on his neck, adorned with Gabe’s snake logo and, on the inside, the pimp’s phone number and a engraving reading “Omega for rent, you have to pay to touch.” The collar was flippable, and only Gabe had the key. Every time Gabe had no one lined up and Brendon was sent to wander the streets at night, the collar was flipped to show the words, shining silver against the black leather. Before he went home, the Omega had to check in with Gabe to give him most of his earnings and to have him flip the collar back. 

By now, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like to have a bare neck. 

The walk to Way Records from the apartment Gabe had gifted him was not long, thankfully. Brendon was far more comfortable now on the streets, feeling safer with the can of Mace Gabe had given him in his pocket. And the collar meant he was leered at far less, acknowledged as taken already. 

It was better they didn’t know the truth. 

Gerard was playing some dark wave music that matched his art all over the walls. The Beta himself was leaning against the counter, looking bored, as a chatty family wandered the displays. He brightened when he saw Brendon come in, waving him over and ducking under the counter to grab the album. 

“Hey there,” he greeted, popping back up. “The newest album by that pop band you're obsessed with. Really, that’s some pretty trashy stuff, man.” 

Brendon grinned, taking the album. “Oh, I know. But it helps me escape you know?” 

Gerard nodded sagely. “An escape is always good. Hey, care to hang out? Once these loiterers leave I have exactly nothing to do but wait till Mikey takes over.” 

Brendon opened his mouth to say yes, his afternoons were pretty much always free, but was interrupted by his phone buzzing in his pocket. Heart sinking, he checked to see a text from Gabe, reading: special client for tonight, come over asap. The family finally started to wander over, so Brendon stepped off to the side to reply. 

my throat still hurts from last night. no break?

take a cough drop and suck it up, sweetheart. i dont pay you to complain

Brendon had to look up for a bit at that, watching Gerard deal with the family’s loud, absurd requests. Gabe could be a real asshole sometimes. 

ok ok i’ll be over soon

Gerard shot him an irritated look as the father of the family started counting out change. Brendon grimaced back, then pointed to his phone and the door with a helpless shrug. Gerard nodded before turning his attention back to the man. 

Gabe had said asap, but clients usually only came at night, and surely letting Gabe play dress up on him wouldn’t take the hours and hours left until the sun set. So he stopped to drop off the album at his apartment, and spent some time there staring at his phone and wishing he could talk to Pete and Patrick. Gerard and his brother, Mikey, were great guys, but they knew nothing of his past, or what his job entailed. These days, Brendon wanted nothing more than to be able to escape the life Gabe laid out for him, to spend all his time with Pete and Patrick again. He even started to have dreams almost nightly of his Soulmate stealing him away to safety. They were stupid, of course, but he couldn’t help but wish. 

Brendon made the twenty minute walk to Gabe’s apartment stretch into thirty, perfectly willing to admit he was stalling. The Alpha last night had been pretty rough and normally Brendon was given a bit of a break after such experiences. To be called in for a client the day after, especially so early, was unusual.  


But Gabe was his boss and Brendon could not disobey, so when he was in front of the building he sighed and buzzed in. 

The intercom crackled with Gabe’s voice. “Hey, kid. Come on up.” 

When he opened the door to Gabe’s apartment, he saw the Alpha rifling through a huge pile of costumes on his table, mumbling to himself. He looked up when Brendon entered and nodded. 

“There you are, thank god. Strip, we need to find the best outfit for you.” 

Brendon sighed and started to remove his clothes. The initiation had really helped him to be less self-conscience about his body. “Who is this client? You’ve never put this much work into making me pretty.” 

“Prettier, my dear, prettier. And remember Ross Labels?” Gabe threw a skirt heavy with sequins at him. Brendon grimaced but pulled it on. 

“Yeah, of course. So it’s some higher up for them?” Gabe grinned at him. 

“Nope. Ryan Ross himself saw you a couple of nights ago on the street corner when I sent you to patrol. He’s starting his Rut today, wanted some companionship for the weekend, and thought you were pretty enough to rent. Offered me a hell of a lot of money for you.”

Brendon paled. “The weekend? Gabe, I’ve never spent days with an Alpha, I told you I never wanted the sessions to be long-term-”

Gabe shoved a pair of golden high heels at him, eyes glinting. “Brendon, Ryan-fucking-Ross asked for you specifically. You will go with him and make his Rut something to remember, and you will earn that money he’s giving us both. You start whining again and you can go right back to that fucking alley I picked you up from, understand?” Brendon shuddered and nodded, looking down at his feet. Gabe nodded back, waiting for Brendon to grab the heels before digging again through the clothes. 

In the end, he was dressed in a black leather skirt and an actual boned corset that kind of shortened his breath. His face had been painted with the best of Gabe’s makeup collection, and his signature red lipstick was on. The Alpha stepped back to look him over, leering. 

“Prettier indeed. Damn, knew I made the right choice with you.”

Brendon did his best to take a deep breath, and found he couldn’t. “Gabe,” he said through gritted teeth. “If I wear this corset to Ross’, I will literally pass out.”  


Gabe rolled his eyes. “Fine, fine, I’ll loosen it.” Just as he did so though, the doorbell rang. Gabe grinned. 

“Here,” he said, kicking a pair of black heels at him. “Put those on then follow me, that’ll be him.” He then left the room. 

Brendon pulled them on and sighed, unable to admit he was a bit nervous. Ross was a huge client to have, and would probably expect nothing less than perfection. Not only that, but he wanted Brendon for the entire weekend, to satisfy his Rut. Brendon better get a decent amount of the share for this, Ruts were brutal. 

He walked slowly from the room and peeked around a door to see Ross at the entrance, talking to Gabe. The millionaire was of average height, with a thin build and floppy brown hair that fell into his eyes. His clothing style was rather startling, with perhaps too many scarves to be healthy and cowboy boots, of all things. He looked harmless, but there was something off about the way he moved, and his voice was an unsettling monotone. Brendon pulled away with a shiver running down his spine, unable to understand why he felt so disconcerted by this Alpha, but knowing he had to ignore it. He took a deep breath, violently cut off by the still uncomfortably tight corset, then walked around the corner. 

Ross saw him first, and his eyes lit up immediately, looking him up and down with approval and hunger. Gabe turned to hold his arm out to him, which Brendon smoothly took, giving Ross a charming smile. 

“Nice to meet you, Alpha Ross,” he said, lowering his head demurely. Gabe patted his ass in approval, handing him off to Ross. 

“If you could just give me a third of the pay now, he’s all yours. Give the rest to him before you leave, and remember that any mark you put on him cost extra, so try to show some restraint.” 

Ross laughed at that, reaching to wrap an arm around Brendon’s waist and pull him close. “It’s not like I don’t have any money to spare, Alpha Saporta. I’ll pay the extra.” Brendon felt his heart sink, and he sent a quick look to Gabe, hoping to convey his discomfort, but Gabe just looked a bit unsettled. 

“Just make sure he can walk, okay? He’s one of my best.” 

Ross pulled a wad of cash from his pocket, handing it off with a careless shrug. “Yeah, sure. We’ll be going then, I can feel my Rut coming.” 

Gabe nodded, counting out the bills. “Go on then.” 

And just like that, Brendon was being pulled away, down the stairs and into the street, where a shiny black car waited for them. Ross opened the door for him and watched as Brendon slid into the backseat before joining him, the door shutting with an ominous thud. 

“The apartment, Joseph.” Ross instructed the driver, before closing the privacy screen, the actual fucking privacy screen, and turning to Brendon.

“What’s your name?” He asked, gaze almost frightening in its intensity. Brendon wanted to look away, but smiled instead. 

“Brendon, Alpha Ross.” 

Ross grimaced. “Call me Ryan, Alpha Ross is my father.” His scent flared suddenly, that same musk that had filled the alley the night Gabe found Brendon. Ryan groaned, head hitting the headrest behind him, and Brendon slunk closer. 

“Need any help?” 

Ryan waved him over. “Yes, put that mouth of yours to work.” 

Brendon nodded, reaching to unbutton the Alpha’s pants. Apparently he was too slow, because Ryan pushed him away with a growl, did it himself, then grabbed Brendon’s hair and tugged. Brendon found himself falling to lie sideways over the seat, being fed Ryan’s cock. Startled, he tried to pull away, but Ryan simply pulled harder, making Brendon’s scalp throb with pain. Inwardly wincing, he stilled and relaxed his throat, allowing Ryan to control his movements and resigning himself to just riding it out. 

Brendon was used to having cocks in his mouth, he was actually heavily requested for it, and received a lot of praise for his skill. Gabe had even seemed to consider testing him out, mentioning the compliments and tilted his head contemplatively while staring at his lips, but William, who was present at the time, had just smacked the back of his head and snapped him out of it. Ryan wasn’t letting him have any control though, wasn’t allowing him to use any of the tricks he had learned over the two years of his employment. Instead, Brendon dug his fingers into the leather seat and tried to match the pace Ryan set so as to limit the tugs on his hair. He was relieved to feel the Alpha’s knot beginning to form, and tried to pull away, but Ryan just pulled him all the way down. 

“You’re okay with having your mouth knotted, aren’t you?” He asked conversationally. Brendon tried, again, to pull off and speak, to say hell no, that wasn’t ever offered. Unfortunately, it seemed the question was rhetorical, because Ryan shoved his knot in just in time for him to cum, and then Brendon was far too busy trying desperately to swallow around his dick and breath at the same time. He was vaguely aware of the Alpha letting go of his hair and beginning to pet it instead, in a gentle move that greatly contrasted the dominating force he had just shown, and Brendon fucking knew there was something wrong with him. Alphas never knotted Omega’s mouths, there was too much risk of suffocation, and besides, the prospect of being trapped in such a position was extremely unappealing. They weren’t even at Ryan’s apartment yet, and already he was pulling this shit. The coming weekend had just became an even more frightening idea. 

Brendon didn’t choke, luckily, but he had swallowed enough cum that he felt sick. The moment Ryan’s knot went down he pulled off, gasping, feeling cum and saliva drip from his mouth and tears fall from his cheeks. Ryan cupped his chin and pulled his head up to look at him. What he saw must have pleased him, because he smiled. 

“Clean yourself up, we’re almost there.” He said. Brendon pulled away, wiping at his mouth and trembling with shock. 

“That, that isn’t allowed,” he gasped, voice raspy and weak. “I could tell Gabe, and go-” 

Ryan wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him almost into his lap. “Just try, Sweetheart. I gave Saporta so much money I doubt he’ll give a single shit. Besides-” he leaned in to nip at Brendon’s neck- “you can still walk, can’t you?” 

Brendon tried to pull away, disgusted and scared and unable to admit he was right, but Ryan’s grip was tight as iron. 

“You’re a whore,” he hissed against Brendon’s skin. “You can’t say no, you’re not allowed to. I can do whatever the hell I want to you, so I suggest you stop struggling, because a punishment sounds really appealing right now.” 

Brendon stilled, bowing his head and wishing he could stop the tears rolling down his face. He’d never been this scared in his entire life, not even when he’d heard of who Alpha Morris was, or when he’d been raped in the alley. Ryan just felt wrong, made his skin buzz with unease, and his actions were cruel and merciless. Alphas in Rut usually just wanted a quick fuck or two to burn off the urges, but Ryan seemed to take pleasure in hurting him. 

The car pulled in front of an incredibly opulent apartment building on the Strip. Ryan buttoned his pants again, opened the door, and stepped out. The driver opened Brendon’s door, revealing himself to be a Beta man with a sympathetic look on his face. He stepped to the side and gestured for Brendon to get out, whispering very quietly “good luck” before he was closing the door and sliding back into the driver’s seat. 

Ryan appeared at Brendon’s side, holding out his arm and laughing when Brendon flinched. His eyes glinted with something dark when the Omega took his arm, head still bowed, now more in fear than submission, and he led Brendon into the lobby. Brendon stared down at the marble floors, sure that the lobby was beautiful and worth looking at, but too scared to even lift his head. That damned tremble had started again, and he felt like a child again, weak and frightened. He trembled more when they entered the elevator, empty but for them, and the doors shut, leaving them alone once more. 

He could feel Ryan’s gaze on him. 

“Look at me,” the Alpha demanded. Brendon did, still not meeting his eyes. 

“Are you scared, little puppy?” Ryan cooed, pulling him closer. Brendon took a deep breath, as well as he could due to Gabe’s fucking wardrobe choices, and met his gaze. He was so fucking tired of this already. 

“Yes, I am scared,” he said, voice still wavering and weak, but determined to stand up for himself. “You’ve already broken the rules, and you’re all too aware of all the benefits your money will get you. You’re right, I can’t say no. But I can say I’ll never willingly accept another night with you again.” 

Shit, that was stupid. Ryan’s face twisted in anger, just in time for the elevator doors to ding open, revealing the penthouse. He grabbed Brendon’s wrist in a grip tight enough to rival his rapist’s and pulled him into the bedroom, flinging him to the bed but not following. Instead he stared down at Brendon, gasping and struggling to sit up despite the limit on his breath. The smirk returned to Ryan’s lips, and he pressed down on Brendon’s shoulder, making him fall down again. The Omega gave up and just lay there, trying to get his breath back. 

“Was the corset your idea or Alpha Saporta’s?” the Alpha asked, head tilted a little. “Probably his, you don’t strike me as the type to give up control like this.” He stripped off his shirt and scarves, still staring. 

“I think I like you, Whore. I might want to keep you.” He started to move forward, then stumbled and bent over. The scent of musk grew heavy again, Ryan’s Rut fully kicking in, and fuck Brendon wanted it over with already. Still, he knew when Ryan gathered himself again, and remembered an Omega was on his bed, he would be insatiable. Swiftly, he kicked off his heels, then slipped his panties off and hurled them to the side. His hands went to the corset just as Ryan looked up again, pupils dilated. The Alpha was on top of him in an instant, grabbing his wrists and holding them over his head. His wild eyes locked with Brendon’s for a moment, then he was pressing his lips to Brendon’s own in a bruising kiss. His free hand pulled the Omega’s skirt up and delved between his legs, finding his hole and slipping inside. It burned a little; Brendon wasn’t aroused so his natural slick wasn’t forming, but the Alpha plainly gave zero shits, stretching him hard and rough, only using two fingers. When he pulled away to pull off his pants, Brendon’s eyes widened at the sight of his cock. It was fucking huge; if that monster was shoved up his ass it would tear him open. He pulled a wrist free and fucked himself with three fingers, gasping at the pain but continuing on, trying to think of something, anything, to form slick. Ryan had just gotten his pants off when Brendon’s mind replaced him with his shadowy faced Soulmate, smiling and kind, blue eyes warm with love and his fingers preparing him with his own pleasure in mind. The illusion dissipated when Ryan pulled his hand away and lifted Brendon’s legs to his shoulders, thrusting inside hard, but it had done its job; Brendon’s body had finally formed enough slick to prevent any tearing. 

Not that it didn’t hurt. Brendon groaned and turned his head to bite the pillow, fisting his hands uselessly in Ryan’s tight grip. He usually didn’t have clients in Rut, because they were rough as hell and Gabe still kind of babied him, so this might be the most brutal fuck he had experienced. Ryan’s head was buried in his neck, teeth nipping at his skin and hips continuing their vigorous assault on Brendon’s rapidly bruising ass. The Omega closed his eyes and thought of his Soulmate again. He never had stopped dreaming about the mysterious Alpha. 

Ryan’s knot finally began to form, and he shoved it in with a groan then collapsed on Brendon, who grunted, grateful his client was skinny and not very heavy, and squirmed a little under him. 

“Stop moving,” Ryan growled. Brendon just sighed.

“Can you let go of my wrists?” Ryan’s grip tightened a moment, then let go. Brendon twisted his wrists a bit to get the blood flowing again, then looked up to see the clock on the nightstand, which read 5pm. Well, shit. 

A hand gripped his chin, turning his head to force him to meet Ryan’s eyes. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” the Alpha said, looking at him almost reverently. With any normal client, Brendon would flutter his eyelashes and thank him, but now he just tried to turn his head away again. Ryan didn’t let him. 

“I know I scare you,” he said, still staring, “but I really think we could be something. I’m definitely going to ask for you again.” 

“Please don’t,” Brendon whispered, avoiding his gaze. Gabe would be mad at losing such a source of income, but surely he wouldn’t kick Brendon out. The rules were there for a reason, and Brendon could have choked to death on the bastard’s cock. 

Ryan rolled his eyes. His knot had gone down enough, so he pulled out and walked to the dresser still naked, pulling something from one of the drawers. Brendon sat up a little, curious despite himself, and felt his heart sink at the sight of the white bag in his hand. Another rule broken: no hard drugs involved. He watched, silent, as his client snorted a couple of lines of coke then collapsed in a chair with a deep sigh. He rubbed at his nose then glanced over at Brendon, face shadowed in the low light. 

“Come here, Whore,” he muttered, patting his knee. Brendon swallowed and stood, reaching around to take off the corset as he walked over. Ryan’s lip curled with irritation when the garment dropped to the floor, but he said nothing, just watching as Brendon straddled him on the chair, settling his sore ass on the man’s knees with a little wince. Ryan dragged a finger through the powder still on the dresser, humming. His other hand reached up to curl in Brendon’s hair.

“Drugs and whores.” He laughed. “Father would be so proud.” His grip tightened. “Wouldn’t he?” 

“I’m sure he’d be very proud, Ryan.” His dad was dead, right? He vaguely remembered it being in the news. 

“Yeah…” Ryan’s hand stopped fiddling with the powder. “So proud of his Alpha son,” he trailed off, staring to the side. Then he shook his head and leaned back, both hands moving to Brendon’s hips. 

“Ride me.” 

The rest of the day passed in a haze. Brendon grew exhausted beyond belief, ass burning with the near-constant fucking. The Alpha didn’t knot his throat again, but he did cum on his face twice, leaving Brendon gasping with shock, feeling the vile liquid trail through Gabe’s carefully applied makeup. He ended up just laying on the bed still and quiet while Ryan thrust and growled above him. Finally, the Rut abated enough for Ryan to collapse in sleep, curled around Brendon and still knotted in him.

Brendon waited for his breath to even out and the knot to go down before struggling from his arms. When he stood, pain wracked through his body, mouth opening in a silent gasp as he dropped down on the bed. He shot a resentful glare at the sleeping Alpha, because holy shit the man was rough, and he had apparently reduced Brendon to being barely able to walk, going against the only request Gabe had made of him. Gabe would surely let him leave now. With that in mind, his next attempt at standing was more successful, though no less painful. He grit his teeth and limped to his discarded skirt, digging his phone from the hidden pocket. He had just switched it on when arms wrapped around him from behind, making him jump and drop the phone. 

“Trying to escape, are you?” Ryan purred in his ear. Brendon hadn’t even heard him get up. He shook his head. 

“I was just-”

“Save the excuses.” Ryan sighed, warm breath escaping in a rush. “Every Rut I get a new partner, and each one tries to escape halfway through. I thought you’d be different; I am paying you for this.” 

Brendon swallowed. “The money isn’t worth the pain,” he whispered. 

Ryan pressed a kiss to his ear. “Well, your ass is worth the money. Come back to bed, I’ll punish you in the morning.” 

Brendon allowed himself to be led to the bed. “Scenes cost extra.” 

“Whatever, Whore, tell it to your pimp.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry Ryan stans  
> In case you couldn't tell, I'm not used to writing sex scenes. Why I chose to write a story like this, I have no idea.


	4. Hot Damn, Let Me Make You My Boo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a list of excuses, if anyone wants to hear them

Brendon woke on Sunday morning with an overwhelming urge to curl into a ball and hide. Ryan had kept him busy the entirety of the day before, so that his entire body ached and stung. He could feel dried cum flaking on his skin and a sharp sting from the whip lashes that had entailed his ‘punishment.” He didn’t dare move from the bed, just shuddered quietly and tried not to move too much and break the barely-there scabs. 

Ryan wasn’t in bed with him. Instead, Brendon could hear his light footsteps moving back and forth across the carpet. He seemed to be on the phone with someone. 

“Look,” he hissed, “Spence, just tell me when you’re getting back. This whole endeavour you’re taking on is pointless, and I need you far more than your fantasy does.” He paused a moment, walking too close to the bed and causing Brendon to freeze in fear. 

“Oh, and I’m the asshole now, am I? And to think, after all you know about my fucking father-” He walked away again, steps heavy with anger. 

“For fuck’s sake, I’m not taking any drugs! You need to stop listening to Jon, he knows shit about anything anyway-” A muffled voice came through the receiver, sounding low and angry. Ryan let out a deep sigh. 

“Just...come home, please? He left me with so much responsibility, and I need my best friend to help me get through it.” Another pause, and a low growl of frustration. 

“Soulmates are fairy tales, Spencer,” he said, voice dark. “You’re never going to find your little phoenix. You’re better off marrying some pretty rich thing and calling it a day.” The footsteps stopped, then Ryan snarled. 

“That fucker hung up on me!” He shouted. “Goddamn idiot thinks he can find his happy ever after.” The footsteps marched towards the bed and then the mattress sank, fingers curling in Brendon’s hair. 

“Wake up,” he mumbled, “Spencer’s being an idealistic asshole again. You’re a whore, surely you don’t believe in Soulmates?”

Brendon took a moment to be stupidly grateful Gabe covered his mark with foundation every night before stirring, blinking like he had just woken up.

“W-What?” he murmured, watching Ryan’s face go dark. 

“Does nobody fucking listen to me?” He shouted. “Fucking hell!” He got off the bed again and kicked the dresser, white powder trickling to the floor. Brendon went completely still again.

The Alpha took a deep, shuddering breath, then let it out. 

“Get out.” 

“What?” Brendon felt his heart leap with hope. 

“I said get the hell out.”

The Omega stood from the bed, staring. 

“Then I…?”

“Go!” The corset smacked him in the face, Ryan growling. “My Rut is over, and I’m angry enough I might fucking kill you, so go!”

Brendon dressed as quickly as he could, and started to go before pausing. He swallowed. Gabe would never forgive him if he left penniless, no matter what Ryan did. “And my pay?” 

Another low growl ripped from Ryan’s chest, but he marched over to his wallet and withdrew a of stack of bills. He walked to where Brendon stood on shaking legs, a dark fire in his eyes as he thrust the money into his hands. His head tilted a little, then, a smile growing on his face. Fear ran through Brendon’s veins like ice at the sight, freezing him to the floor. 

“Now run along, little Brendon.” 

Brendon stared at him a moment longer, almost lost in the dark void of his eyes, so cold and lifeless. Then Ryan looked away, smirk curling on his lips and the memory of his whip prickling Brendon’s skin, and the Omega ran. 

The pain hit him again when the elevator doors had closed behind him, making him groan and lean again the barrier. It was a miracle he was able to stand at all; his entire body ached and he was bleeding so much it was concerning. The lashes had opened up again, ruining Gabe’s horrible corset, and the little skirt he wore was damp with blood. In the reflective surfaces of the walls, he could see the smeared lipstick, the bruises Ryan had nibbled around his collar, his own wide, hunted eyes. Fuck, he had to get out of there. 

Gabe picked up on the second ring. 

“Hey kid, need me to let you up?” 

“No,” Brendon used his arm to try to get the lipstick off. It only made his arm look bloodstained too. “I need a pickup.” 

He could practically hear Gabe’s frown. “Just get a taxi, kid, it’s not that hard.” 

“I don’t want to bleed all over their seats.” 

The pimp whistled low. “Shit, Ross fucked you up didn’t he?” 

Brendon grit his teeth. The doors dinged open and he limped out with a single minded determination. Hopefully, nobody would call the police at the very sight of him. 

“Yes, he really did. Now can you please pick me up? I think I need to go to the hospital.” 

A door slammed shut on the other end, Gabe’s breathing getting heavier as he descended the stairs. “No can do, kid, would raise too many questions. I’ll call Vicky over. Where are you?”

The stale desert air made Brendon wince a little as he left the building. He gave Gabe the hotel’s name and then looked around for somewhere discreet to sit, unsure if his broken body could hold him up much longer. 

“Just get here soon, please?” He asked, sinking down onto a wooden bench and trying to stifle an involuntary cry of pain. 

Gabe must have heard it anyway, because he sounded grim as he said “Give me 10” and abruptly hung up. 

Faced with a period of time to wait and a very distracting amount of pain, Brendon found the most distracting articles he could on his phone and tried to set his entire focus on them. He kept his head low, wishing he had longer hair so he could use it to shield his face. 

Halfway through reading about a cat that was appointed mayor, a hand landed on his shoulder and he jumped, relieved to see only Gabe when he looked up. 

The Alpha frowned, reaching up to run a hand through his hair, Brendon leaning into the gentle touch. 

“You okay, kid?” And wasn’t it fucked up that Brendon was seeking comfort in the hands of his fucking pimp, the man who’s sold him out to that abusive asshole in the first place. But the Alpha had occasional moments where it really looked like he cared for Brendon, and the sad, lonely part of him craved those moments desperately. 

Therefore, Brendon had no one to blame but himself when he choked back a sob and whispered “no, not really.” 

Gabe ended up giving him a week off to heal, then, faced with Vicky’s angry shouting and the sight of Brendon’s naked, shattered body, had thrown his hands up and added on another. Brendon had just nodded through Vicky’s examination and treatments, stared out the window the entire ride to his apartment, then crawled into his own bed and cried himself to sleep. 

The nightmare of his life didn’t sink through to his dreams. Instead he felt warm and safe, surrounded by icy blue that shimmered like glass and jewels. He kept hearing a whisper of something, like someone was trying to speak to him but they were speaking through water or cotton. It frustrated him if he paid too much attention to it, so he pushed it away and lost himself in the color. 

Somehow, the fantasy of arms holding him close was far less difficult to imagine in his dreams. 

He spent his time off in a haze of distractions, losing himself in games and books and the new album Gerard had given him (which was peppy and cheerful and the exact opposite of what he felt) and trying to banish the sight of Ryan’s dark eyes and amused smirk, or the feel of his long fingers curled tight in Brendon’s hair, dragging him where the Alpha wanted him. He tried to sleep as much as possible, desperate for the hazy dream world he found to be his only solace.

Gerard kept giving him concerned glances when Brendon stopped over, and his brother, Mikey, had even pulled him aside during a particularly non busy day and had asked him very quietly if he was okay, if he should call the Omega Protective Services. Brendon had almost said yes, then remembered that authority meant his parents, and his parents meant Alpha Morris. He looked down and shook his head instead. 

And all throughout, he felt his body healing, the pain dulling even as his mind tormented him every moment he was alone with his thoughts.  
Then, on the Sunday exactly two weeks after Ryan had let him go, Vicky checked him over and, reluctantly, declared him good to go. 

“Great!” Gabe announced, looking pleased. “Dallon has been asking for you. You’ll be fine with tomorrow night, right?” 

And Dallon was...fine. He was actually Brendon’s favorite regular, with a sense of humor and a gentle, if firm, touch, and he always made sure Brendon enjoyed it as much as he did. But that night, Dallon spent so long trying to make Brendon cum with him that the Omega actually found himself faking it to satisfy him, something he was well-versed in but had never had to do with Dallon before. When he was back home, he found himself sitting against his front door, head pressed into his knees and breath coming out in short bursts. His skin crawled with the memories of Ryan’s touch brought back to life with the fresh bruises on his hips and soreness in his ass, until the sensations were too much and he ran to the bathroom and threw up. 

Curled against the cold porcelain of his toilet, shuddering at the taste of vomit and old and new cum, he felt his breaths get shorter and shorter, until blackness crept at the edges of his vision. 

Unbidden, a memory rose from the back of his mind of a childhood sleepover. 

He’d woken up in the middle of the night to see Pete curled in Patrick’s arms, unable to sob through the panicked gasps he took in, wide eyes fixed on Patrick’s face, hands clenched tight in Patrick’s shirt, just over his heart. The other Omega had been humming softly, hands trailing through his Alpha’s hair as he whispered “breath, breath.” He’d seen Brendon watching and mouthed ‘nightmare’ and Brendon nodded, remembering Pete’s anxiety and insomnia and how sometimes he would cling to Patrick for hours and refuse to let go, staring at him like he was the only light in his otherwise dark world. 

Pete had eventually been soothed, matching Patrick’s calming breaths and wrapping his arms around him, tight enough that Patrick let out a little, strangled noise. But he hadn’t complained, just let himself be held and pressed kisses into Pete’s hair until they had both settled back into sleep. Brendon had stayed up a little longer, watching them with love and a hint of jealousy at the unbreakable bond they had. 

Now Brendon remembered the sound of Patrick’s voice, the way he took slow, deep breaths. Brendon tried to match them, breath rattling and weak but strengthening with the imagined sound of Patrick encouraging him. The black crept away, and Brendon found himself holding his phone, finger trembling over the call button under Patrick’s name. He stared at it for a moment, wishing more than anything that he could actually speak to his best friend again. 

His finger clicked the phone off, hand gripping the lip of the tub to pull himself up again. He rinsed out his mouth and stumbled from the room. It was midnight, witching hour, the time for the dregs of society to be up and about, selling their wares and settling old debts. He was one of those people, selling off his body so he could live another day in this miserable city. Staring down at the bruises on his hips, remembering the way Ryan told him he couldn’t say no, Brendon wondered if it was all worth it. If dragging himself through hell night after night was worth the excuse of a life he lived. The thought of ending it all, of taking control, was becoming more and more enchanting. 

Then he remembered his Soulmate, and sighed in defeat. They may never meet, but when the bond was cut with death, the living partner had a tendency to fall into a coma, or kill themselves to join them, or just lose their minds. Because in that moment, right before death, the Bond was opened, and they would each see the other’s every memory and every thought. It was the universe allowing them to say goodbye, but with the added cruelty of letting the living know what they had missed. 

Brendon’s Soulmate already had a used up whore for a mate, they didn’t need the added torment of watching his entire life. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone. 

The Omega hung his head and hugged himself, looking around his apartment. He tried to keep it clean and tidy, but it was still pretty much a shithole. Still, it came free with the job. He looked to the tiny TV, balanced on a ratty stand found in a thrift store, and contemplated losing himself in front of it, like he had in his time off. But the lure of his gentle dreamworld was too strong, and instead he stripped off his costume and curled up in his bed. 

Again, his dreams were gentle, and provided a welcome respite. He decided not to question the sudden paradise he was sent to with sleep, gift horses and mouths and all that. 

He could feel his mental health declining. After every client Gabe sent him to, he felt disgusting, used, miserable. After one of the Johns complained to Gabe about him being less than enthusiastic, he just upped his acting game, giving them too-bright smiles and exaggerated winks. The only time he was himself was when he would stop by Way Labels, or when he read the texts Pete and Patrick never stopped sending and felt his heart crumbling at the distance he was forcing between them. 

Still, he survived, and the memory of Ryan’s touch was starting to fade. 

Of course, that’s when the man decided to crash back into his life. 

He was in the middle of chatting up some Alpha on the street, hand trailing down the man’s chest and collar flipped to Gabe’s number, when a car pulled up beside them. 

“Brendon,” somebody said, and Brendon abruptly froze, persona melting away and betraying the terrified boy beneath. He didn’t look at the car, didn’t want it to be real. 

“Hey, do you mind?” The nameless man he’d been propositioning demanded. 

“Yes, I do.” Ryan’s voice was silky, car door popping open as he stepped onto the sidewalk. “Now fuck off, this boy’s mine.”

Brendon bared his teeth, stepping back from both of them. “You almost killed me, you fucker! I told you, I’ll never go with you again.” 

The John looked at both of them, then shook his head. “Okay, yeah, I’m not getting involved.” He walked away, ignoring Brendon’s gasp of “wait!” 

Feeling trapped with his abuser despite the open, public space, Brendon whirled to face him. 

“I’m not going with you again,” he hissed. “Gabe said I could tell you to fuck off if you ever approach again.” 

Ryan huffed. “I won’t even fuck you, I just want to talk. I’m sure Alpha Saporta will allow that.” 

Brendon laughed, humorless and dry with terror. 

“Fuck you, Ryan Ross.” He turned to leave. 

Only to have long fingers slip into his collar and pull him back, choking him.

“Omega for rent” Ryan read, wrapping an arm around him and easily shrugging off his struggles. “And Alpha Saporta’s number, how useful.” He let go of the collar to fish out his phone, restraining him with only one arm and why oh why did Omegas have to be so weak? Physically and mentally so, judging by the desperate pleas falling from his lips and the useless tugs he made at the restraining limb.  
And yet people passed them on the street, some slowing only to speed up again when they read the words on his collar. A few even sent him disgusted looks, paying no mind to the Alpha holding him captive. 

Ryan somehow managed to dial Gabe’s number one handed, raising the phone to his ear and chuckling a little in amusement at Brendon’s pitiful escape attempts. 

“Alpha Saporta?” He asked. “This is Ryan Ross.” He listened to Gabe’s reply then smirked. “Why, yes, I do want his company again.” 

“Gabe!” Brendon cried, and Ryan, for whatever reason, pressed the speaker button, allowing him to hear his pimp’s reply. 

“Now, Alpha Ross, I don’t want you hurting the merchandise again,” he was saying, voice low and dangerous through the speakers. A low hum rumbled from Ryan’s chest. 

“All I want is to take him out to dinner, have a chat,” he said, smooth as silk. “I swear, I’m not after his sweet ass tonight.” 

Gabe paused a moment, and fuck, was he actually considering this? “How do I know you’ll keep your word?” 

Brendon whimpered, choking on a sob. “Gabe, please, don’t give me to him again, please.” 

“Shush, Alphas are talking,” his captor purred. Gabe just outright ignored him, asking “well, Ross?” 

Ryan hummed, considering. “I’ll return him by two. If there’s a single mark on his pretty skin, call me and I’ll fax over an extra sum. I’m sure you record these calls, so you know I’ll pay it, if just to avoid the legal trouble. As it is, you’ll get a grand for his company, and he’ll get a nice meal and a riveting conversation. Do we have a deal?”

There was a pause, and Brendon’s heart sank. Gabe liked him, but he liked money more, and he would never understand how terrible Ryan’s very presence could be. 

“Fine,” Gabe said, and Brendon resumed his struggles, mouth opening to shout for help but being abruptly cut off by Ryan’s hand slapping over his mouth. He tried to bite. Ryan avoided it with a hiss. 

“You’re lucky he’s pretty,” he grunted into the phone, and Gabe sighed, clearly having heard the struggle. 

“Just don’t hurt him. And kid, suck it up, you’ll be fine. If I hear you were a brat to Alpha Ross I’ll give a repeat of when you couldn’t stand upright in those heels.” Brendon immediately slumped, remembering the way the client had smacked him, shoving him down and laughing at his terrified cries. All he could do was pray Ryan never was allowed to go that far. 

But hadn’t he already?

Ryan must have ended the call, because he slipped the phone into his pocket and released Brendon finally, smirking when the Omega didn’t run. It wasn’t like he had a choice. 

“Our chariot awaits.” 

The car ride was silent, almost tense. Brendon curled as close to the door as he could, keeping his head down but eyes watching Ryan carefully. The Alpha didn’t try to touch him, the light from his phone casting his face in an eerie light as he frowned at numbers. The man was wealthy, handsome, successful. Why didn’t he already have an Omega to hang off his arm? What made him choose to pick up a whore?

What was it about Brendon that made Ryan want to hurt him so much? 

The car pulled up in front of an extravagant restaurant, and once again the driver opened Brendon’s door for him. It was the same Beta as before, the same sympathy on his face. He gave Brendon a sad smile before Ryan circled the car and held out his arm, waiting for Brendon to take it before leading them in. 

At the door, Brendon hesitated, pulling a little on Ryan’s arm. “Aren’t I underdressed?” He asked when the Alpha whirled to look at him. Ryan shrugged, looking him up and down. The costume of the day was a loose shirt cut short so a sliver of his naval showed, as well as criminally tight jeans and tall leather boots, with a massive heel, of course. It was more conservative than the last time they had met, but still made his occupation kind of obvious, especially with his collar flipped. Ryan didn’t seem to care, though. 

“You look fine,” he dismissed, rolling his eyes. “Now come on.” Brendon couldn’t help the foreboding feeling in his chest, but honestly being in public would be far safer than alone with this man, so he allowed himself to be pulled inside.  
Of course, there was no wait time when you were Ryan Ross, even at as late a time as ten. The two were escorted to a booth overlooking the Strip, lights glittering out the window. Brendon watched them, paying little attention as his client ordered for him. Then the waiter was gone, and Ryan cleared his throat. Brendon sighed and looked over in time to catch his intense gaze. 

“Tell me your story, Whore.” 

Brendon’s eyes shot away to his napkin as he ripped it in half. 

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” the Alpha leaned forward in his seat. “Tell me everything.” 

The napkin was becoming a pile of little shreds in his lap. “I, um, don’t know where to start.” Or if he should say anything at all. He was an illegal runaway, Ryan could blackmail him easily. 

“Let’s start easy, then. What’s your family like?” 

“Mormon,” Brendon replied shortly. That was vague enough, right? Ryan didn’t seem satisfied, though. 

“And? Did they support you? Did they hate you?” A glimmer of a smirk danced in the corners of his mouth. “Did they sell you into prostitution?” 

Brendon shuddered. “No, no, no. They, um,” he swallowed. “I ran away.” Well, shit, he was such a fucking screw up. 

Ryan’s eyes were gleaming. “You a runaway, little whore? Are you illegal? 

There was nowhere to put the napkin shreds. They fluttered from his trembling hand to the marble floors. “No! I mean, can we talk about something else?” 

“Of course not, come on,” His tone became sweet, but his gaze still felt heavy, dangerous. The Mark on Brendon’s shoulder prickled with something like pain. “I just want to get to know you.” 

Brendon was saved by the waiter arriving with their food; lemon fish for Brendon, steak for Ryan. The waiter poured wine into their glasses, Brendon’s portion being considerably lighter than Ryan’s, then left. Ryan cut into his steak, the red juice spilling onto his plate.  
“Go on,” he said, shoving a piece into his mouth. Brendon poked at his food, trying to think of something not incriminating to say.

“I like music?” He offered, and Ryan visibly lit up. Right, he was CEO to a record label. 

“Do you play? Or just listen?” He demanded. Brendon released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, grateful for the change in topic. 

“Both,” he admitted. “I play guitar,” or had, he’d barely played since he became “employed.” “and piano. I, um, like to sing, and fiddle with other instruments.” 

“You should sing for me, sometime.” Ryan said, looking far too delighted at the idea. “And I know a guy that can teach you more instruments.” 

A tempting offer, but one that meant more of the Alpha’s company. Brendon shook his head. “I don’t think that will be a good idea.” He nipped at a bit of fish, annoyed to find it was fucking delicious. 

“Why not? I can help you a lot, you know.” 

“You literally threatened to kill me,” Brendon hissed. “It took me two weeks to heal from what you did to me.” 

Ryan sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for that, okay? I was angry, and really fucking high. I’m cutting down on the drugs, you know. It was mostly just an obsession anyway, something to occupy me. But I think I’ve found a new obsession, now.” He was looking right at Brendon, and fuck, this was a hint. A terrifying one. Brendon put down his fork and met his gaze. 

“I cannot be yours,” he said, voice cold. “I belong to Gabe, and living as a mostly free whore is better than being a gilded slave.”

Ryan tilted his head. “You’re not the one to make that decision are you?”

Brendon shuddered at that, because he knew Gabe could very well sell him off to Ryan, and fuck, when had his life become so complicated?” 

Ryan grilled him the rest of the meal on his favorite music (his lip curled when he heard of the peppy new album), family (Brendon flat-out refused to discuss any friends, trying to ignore the gleam of interest that sparked in Ryan’s eyes), childhood, and anything else that came to mind. Brendon tried to be sound as uninteresting as possible, but judging by the intent look Ryan kept giving him, he was unsuccessful. 

Finally, the meal was over, and Brendon was delivered to Gabe’s at precisely 1:45 am, with no marks on his skin but a deep, paralyzing fear in his heart. 

He woke the day after to his phone ringing again, and he sighed before answering it. 

“Hey, Gerard,” he mumbled, wincing at the tired rasp his voice had become. 

There was a pause on the other line, then his friend spoke up.

“Hey, Bren. are you busy?”

“Not really.” Brendon sat up in his bed and checked the time. 9 am, he’d only gotten five hours of sleep, most of his night being consumed with resisting calling any authorities and jumping at every sound. 

“Great. Could you come over, maybe? There’s something you should see.”

“Sure.” It wasn’t like he’d get any more sleep, anyway. 

A magazine article. That’s what Gerard had wanted him to see. Big words detailing Ryan Ross’ affair with a prostitute and there, in the center of the page, a blurry picture of the Alpha and his scandalous partner entering the restaurant. Brendon’s face was shadowed, but not enough to completely hide his identity. 

Gerard watched him, artwork abandoned on the counter in front of him. 

“Is this what you’ve been doing at nights?” 

Quiet, overwhelming shame overwhelmed the Omega, making his shoulders slump. 

“I don’t have a choice.” 

“Of course you do!” Gerard slammed a fist on the counter, making Brendon jump. “Oh, sorry. But you do have a choice, you always have a choice. You don’t have to live your life this way.” 

“I do, though.” At Gerard’s confused look, he sighed, sitting. Might as well. “Look, I’ll tell you everything.” 

And so he did, and god it felt so relieving to let it out. 

But Gerard just looked more and more concerned. He opened his mouth to interrupt when Brendon got to the rape part, face stricken with shock and concern, but Brendon shook his head and continued, not wanting to be stopped. 

When he reached the end, Gerard took a deep breath, then stepped from behind the counter and drew Brendon into a fierce hug. 

“You’re strong,” he murmured. “Fuck, you’re so strong, Bren.” 

Brendon wished he could relax in his arms, but his body was rigid with nerves. “I’m not, though, Ryan likes me and Gabe’s going to sell me and I’ll be little more than a sex slave.” 

“What about your friends?” Gerard asked. When Brendon pulled away, frowning in confusion, he continued. “Pete and Patrick? They’ll help you, right?” 

“No,” Brendon shook his head. “No, I can’t drag them into this.” 

“You might have too.” Gerard replied grimly. 

He was right, of course. 

Brendon went home when the store got too busy, Gerard demanding he update him and offering any help he could give. Brendon left him mumbling about calling Mikey as he watched a kid smear sticky fingers on an album. The Omega had hardly been home an hour before Gabe called. 

“Hey, kid...Ross just gave me an offer, and, well...” 

Brendon hung up, took a deep breath, and called Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spencer's coming in like two chapters. My planning notes literally say: MOTHERFUCKING SPENCER JAMES SMITH COMES IN LIKE A WRECKING BALL  
> so theres that to look forward to?   
> please dont hate me for my shitty uploading schedule


	5. Slow Motion

Pete and Patrick had moved from their parent’s homes, of course. Brendon was sure they had excelled in his absence, and the new house reflected that assumption. It was still in Summerlin and would have looked just the same as the other townhouses beside it, if it weren’t for the abundance of plastic purple flamingoes in the yard and the door painted a neon purple to match. It was Pete’s influence, no doubt, and just tacky enough to seem charming, unlike the Purple Cat motel he’d stayed in all that time ago. It was small but homey, and it looked like a place happy memories could be made with happy people. 

When he ran his fingers over the staircase railing he felt like he was soiling it with his touch. 

The purple of the door burned his retinas, so he closed his eyes and leant his forehead against the smooth wood. Patrick had sounded so happy to talk to him on the phone. Surely, they would forgive him for cutting off contact. He only did it for their safety, anyway. They were still in high school when he left, still young and stupid and dependent. If they knew what he’d been driven to do to survive, Brendon had no doubt they would have tried to rescue him, even dropped out and moved away to avoid Brendon’s parents. And then Pete would be trapped working himself to death to try to support two Omegas. 

He had only been trying to protect them. But now, he needed protecting himself. 

Brendon only had to knock once before the door swung open to reveal Patrick, looking at him with wide eyes. The two stared at each other a moment, frozen in time. Brendon was horrified to see tears start pooling in his friend’s eyes, and took a step forward to draw him into a hug, words of apology forming themselves on his lips. 

The Pete flew from behind Patrick and pulled Brendon into his arms so fast the Omega had whiplash. 

Patrick laughed, watery and relieved, and Brendon finally let the tension drain from his limbs. 

Pete had him. Patrick didn’t hate him. 

He was safe. 

Pete was clearly burning to question him, but every time he opened his mouth Patrick would glare at him. 

“You don’t have to explain yourself to us,” he murmured as he sat Brendon on a couch, setting his luggage to the side. He had had to pry Brendon’s fingers from the guitar case holding the instrument he never played anymore, yet still cherished. The music in his life had died, but he still held hope it would return some day. “All I needed to know was that you were safe, and happy.” 

Brendon winced at the last word, and Patrick went still a moment, watching him carefully before nodding. “I’ll make you some hot chocolate,” he said, ruffling Brendon’s hair with a soft smile before leaving the room. 

Pete sat next to Brendon, disregarding the social norms of personal space as always. His chest heaved with a sigh as he pressed his face into the Omega’s shoulder. 

They sat in silence a moment, Pete breathing slowly, and Brendon waiting. He knew Pete, knew he was gathering his thoughts, preparing to speak. 

“Two years, three weeks, and a day ago, I sent you off to Vegas to help you escape your family’s bullshit rules and expectations,” the Alpha said finally. “Patrick is the love of my life, but you’re like my little brother, you know that right? The entire time I’ve known you two, all I’ve done was to make you both have the best life possible. Then I left you alone and..” he pressed closer. “And that fucker, Gabe Saporta, gets a hold of you.” 

Brendon flinched. “How do you-”

Pete shook his head. “William is a friend of a friend. Everyone knows what Gabe does and when Bill said he got a new boy, so soon after I sent you off, I suspected but didn’t let myself believe it was you. Then you come here with that collar, and…” 

He’d forgotten that the collar was still on him, displaying Gabe’s cobra symbol. Suddenly, the thing felt heavy, suffocating, around his neck. Brendon bowed his head with the weight of it. 

“I-I’m sorry, I know I deserved what Ry-.” 

Pete sat up abruptly, curling a hand around the back of his neck to look him in the eyes. “You deserve nothing of what happened to you.” He said, voice strong and shaking with emotion. “I don’t know what he did to you, but I do know that none of it was your fault. Gabe is a bottom feeder, he takes advantage of people when they’re down and offers them things they can’t refuse. You had no choice. And god,” he pressed his head against Brendon’s chest, hiding his face. “I’m sorry, Bren. So, so sorry. I should have known, after all that time with no contact. You’d never drop us like that except for something terrible…”

Brendon curled his body around the Alpha. 

“It’s not your fault. I’m the one who cut you off, I’m the one stupid and desperate enough to go with him. You did everything you could.” And he really had. The only one to blame for Brendon getting into the situation he had was Brendon himself. He’d trusted Gabe, as much as he could. And he’d lead Ryan on until the man decided to buy him. The man could have anyone he wanted, anyone at all, and yet he’d chosen Brendon. It didn’t make him feel special, just sick to his stomach. What was it in him that made Alphas want to hurt him so badly? 

Present company excluded, of course. Pete shook his head but didn’t protest further, instead choosing to cuddle Brendon hard for a long moment before pulling away. 

“Now,” he stood up. “Let’s get that piece of shit collar off you, you won’t need it anymore.” Pete took a pair of scissors from a nearby desk and sat next to Brendon again. He then offered them to Brendon, who stared at them. 

“You should do it.” The Alpha said. Brendon nodded, a little startled, and took the scissors. Something leapt in his chest when the collar was snipped free, the skin tingling as it was bared for the first time in years. A smile crept upon his lips, despite everything. He was glad Pete had let him do it, it felt like he was finally seizing control of his life back. 

A mug thud down on the coffee table in front of them, the wood marred by countless ringed stains from countless other mugs. Patrick sat next to Brendon, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him close. 

Brendon grabbed the mug, taking a sip to soothe the freezing fear still trapped in his heart. Then he sighed, and placed the collar on the table. 

“I owe you an explanation, both of you.” 

Patrick shook his head. “You don’t owe us anything.” 

“Yes I do, I shut you out of my life for years. Just please…” Shame weighed on his shoulders, on his heart, on his heavy, dirty soul. “Please don’t judge me too harshly.” 

“There was no work, the first couple of days,” he began, voice hushed. Pete wrapped his own arm around him, so Brendon was surrounded by the warmth of his friends. “So I rented a room in some trashy motel and kept trying. But then, I stumbled across an Alpha in Rut, and, well…” He took another sip, letting the heat flood his body and wishing it were strength instead. “I was raped.” 

Patrick stiffened, grip tightening. A growl rumbled in Pete’s chest before he cut himself off. They said nothing, though, for which Brendon was grateful. 

“Gabe found me, after. He cleaned me up, took care of me, and when I was healed he offered me a choice. I could live in the streets, homeless and always vulnerable, or I could let him rent me out and have a place to stay.” 

Patrick let out a helpless sound. “Bren, you could have-” 

Brendon shook his head. “Gabe is dangerous, I didn’t want to involve you. And it wasn’t that bad, really.” The heels incidents and constant humiliation notwithstanding. “I grew kind of comfortable with it.” And he had. Gabe mostly gave him nice clients, the kinds who pet him and hugged him close and ensured he gained pleasure from it as well. He’d been babied, he realized. Maybe that’s why Ryan had been so traumatic. “But then Gabe gave me to a new client, a rich one. Right away, he offered to pay damages, so we knew he would probably break the rules. And he did.” Brendon could still remember the way his heart had pounded, come filling his mouth until he had no choice but to swallow, the sharp crack of the whip flying through the air, the long fingers wrapped tight around his throat. He hunched a little. “Then he wanted to have dinner with me, and kind of grew obsessed. I ran away when Gabe called saying he’d given an offer to buy me.” He put the mug down and leant forward, burying his face in his hands. “I’m so sorry to involve you in this, it's such a mess, I’m such a mess, and it’s so dangerous-” 

Patrick whimpered and pulled him into his arms, grip so tight Brendon could barely breath. 

They didn’t really do much, after that. After all the necessary hugs, they finally just settled down to play violent video games, mostly for Pete’s benefit. The Alpha blew things up with rigid dedication and did not let either Omega out of his sight, until finally Patrick kissed him on the forehead, murmuring something in his ear. Pete had given him a strained smile and finally put the controller down, only for Brendon to pick it up, trying to let himself have fun again. They played for hours, well into the night. Pete and Brendon would have stayed up even later, except Patrick started to doze against Brendon’s shoulder, so they roused him and went to bed. 

When they settled to sleep, Brendon was shoved between them, Pete curled against his back, one hand resting over the leather bracelet Brendon still wore. Patrick stayed awake a little longer, reading a book with Brendon’s head in his lap. He finally looked up from the novel late in the night, smiling to see his childhood friend, alive and relatively safe again, face smooth and eyes closed. Brendon was even smiling a little, looking truly at peace, making his friend wonder what he was dreaming of. Whatever it was, Patrick was grateful for it. His friend had been through so much, it was reassuring that he could find respite in dreams. Patrick placed the book on the nightstand and turned out the light. 

The next few days were almost surreal for Brendon. Gabe called, a lot, but Brendon was used to ignoring calls, and never replied. Gerard called every day, and he seemed happy to know Brendon was okay. Apparently, Pete knew his brother, as they all found out when he was holding the phone away from Brendon, cackling with glee at Brendon’s attempts to recapture it, and Mikey asked what Gerard was laughing about. There were a lot of excited shouts and then Pete stole Brendon’s phone and walked into another room to catch up, leaving the Omega blinking in confusion until Patrick pulled him away to help with dinner. 

Pete interned under a music manager, but when he’d called his boss to ask for time off it had been given easily. He still had to go to classes at the college he was attending, but managed to spend as much time with Brendon and Patrick as he could. 

“Alpha Smith is great,” he’d said flippantly when Brendon asked if his boss would mind. “When I explained the situation, in broad terms, B, it’s okay, he almost insisted I take the time off. He’s even still paying me, it’s fine.” 

“Oh yeah, Alpha Smith is awesome.” Patrick added, walking into the room. “He’s a part of one of those Omega Rights Groups. So’s Pete, of course.” He patted his Alpha on the arm. “Otherwise I’d dump his ass, Soulmate or not.” 

Pete gasped. “But who’d iron my clothes and cook my food then? I need babies, Omega! Give me babies!” 

Patrick rolled his eyes. “Dumbass. Bren, your Soulmate better be the most active Omega Rights activist we’ve ever seen.” 

Pete snorted, wrapping an arm around Brendon’s shoulders. “Please, you know nobody could ever deserve our dear Brendon.” 

A hint of steel glinted in Patrick’s eyes, and he met Brendon’s gaze. “You’re right, nobody could deserve him.” 

Brendon shifted his feet, suddenly a bit uncomfortable, doubt at their words curling in his heart. 

Yet as the days passed, he tried to force himself start to relax. His daily life had become as comforting as his dreams, with his best friends at his side, making him laugh and shielding him from the shadows of his past. Nonetheless, he grew restless, and uneasy, unable to shake the overwhelming shadow of dread. Ryan did not seem the type to give up, and Gabe could not be trusted; he’d easily give up Brendon’s information given the right amount of money. And not only was he draining Pete and Patrick’s resources staying with them, he was putting them in danger. Every day he stared at his phone, debating whether to throw it off a cliff somewhere to keep Ryan from fucking tracking him or something. He always decided against it; it could at least be sold off or something. 

He fears came to fruition the fifth night he spent with them, when his phone had rung incessantly until it clicked, a voicemail starting. Brendon snuggled in deeper, figuring it was just Gabe or Gerard, but then froze when an entirely different voice came from the speakers. 

“Did you really run away, you fucking idiot? Were you really stupid enough to think I would give up? I finalized everything with your pimp, you belong to me. And if you don’t want the police involved, I suggest you call me. Get to it, Omega Urie.” The message ended, Brendon sitting in complete shock for a moment. Urie. He knew. Somehow, Ryan fucking Ross knew. 

It was all over. He leapt from the bed to get to his phone. 

Or, tried to. 

Pete restrained him easily, arms wrapped tight around him, body trembling against his own as Patrick grabbed his wrist. His eyes were wide with shock but his face was set in determination as he whispered, “Bren, it’ll be okay. We’ll run away, you won’t have to be with him, we’ll take care of you-” 

He didn’t understand. “He knows my name.” 

Patrick started to say something, but Brendon interrupted him. “He knows my name, Patrick!” His friend’s face was blurring, and he realized he was crying. “He knows my name, he has what he wants, he owns me.” 

“No he doesn’t,” Pete growled. “The only one who owns you is yourself, and this cunt can’t do anything about that.”

“Brendon,” Patrick said urgently, always the voice of reason. “He can’t hunt you down everywhere, I don’t care how rich he is. And if we’re enough trouble, he’ll give up anyway-”

Another message clicked through. “Oh, and I know who you’re staying with. You don’t want the Wentz’s to get hurt, do you? Come now.” A sigh. “I just need a mate, Brendon. And you’re such a pretty little thing, you’ll want for nothing.” His voice grew darker. “And you’ll never have to rent out that whore ass to other Alphas, you’ll be mine alone. Forever.” 

Brendon went still, hanging limp in Pete’s arms. The roiling terror of his thoughts crystallized into into one thought, clear as glass. Patrick was staring at him, eyes wide with fear, and Brendon forced himself to nod.

“We need to go,” he whispered. 

Pete and Patrick immediately leapt into action, and Brendon’s heart ached to see how ready they were to drop everything for him. Patrick squeezed his hand, hard, then went to pack toiletries, while Pete jumped from the bed to dig suitcases from a closet. 

Brendon waited until they weren’t paying attention to him, then stood. He snatched his phone from floor and went down the stairs to grab his backpack, only to find it empty and unpacked on the counter. He swallowed. He’ll want for nothing, right? 

The guitar was in the living room, but as he went to grab it Pete came thundering down the stairs. A quick smile was sent Brendon’s way before the Alpha disappeared in the living room, leaving Brendon staring after him, torn. He had a narrow window of time, he couldn’t risk it. And he hadn’t been playing the guitar anyway, it was just a crutch, at this point. He opened the door holding nothing but his phone, still barefoot, and left. 

He walked until he came to a little park. Sunshine baked the exposed dirt and touch shrubbery as children crawled through the single jungle gym, laughing. Their voices sounded like they came from underwater, but he could hear the delight, the innocence is their voices. They hadn’t presented yet, they all had the opportunity to climb high, to be Alphas, to meet Soulmates. 

He walked on. He had dirty business to do, and children should never be involved. They didn’t need to see what happened to used up whores.

He walked until he found a street corner, away from any of the houses and closer to the desert. The phone was cool against his skin when he pressed it to his ear. 

“Don’t hurt them.” 

Ryan hummed. “Will you give yourself up?” 

Brendon gave him his address. “Come get me, I’ll be your whore.” 

“I should hope so. Stay still.” The call ended abruptly, and another came through almost immediately. Patrick. Brendon was practiced in ignoring him. He opened his texts instead. 

“He would have hurt you, Patrick. I love you, this isn’t your fault.” He sent the message, then turned it off. Vision blurring with tears, he threw the phone to the ground, watching the glass spin from the cracked screen. Then he picked it up again and threw it into the road. Ryan’s car could run it over. 

The Mark burned on his shoulder. Brendon wished he could throw that too, it would get rid of that fucking stupid hope that he could be saved, that he wasn’t about to become the trophy wife or hidden slave of Ryan fucking Ross. 

A bluebird flew by, it’s feathers the exact shade as the eyes in his dreams. A strangled scream escaped his throat, fingers tangling in his hair. He’s already broken everything; he didn’t even have shoes. Instead he tugged at his hair, pulling and pulling until he felt strands rip. Ryan would want him pretty. Fucking hell, he’d make him so pretty. Dresses and jewels and perfumes so strong it’d make him sick. 

Brendon sat on the side of the road, hands carefully folded in his lap, and waited. 

The phone buzzed on the pavement. A car drove by and crushed it flat. Brendon looked away. 

What felt like hours, or maybe seconds, later, the phone crunched more as tires stopped on it. Brendon did not look up; he knew who it was. A car door slammed shut, expensive black dress shoes entering his field of vision. A hand cupped his chin, pulling his head up so he could meet his abuser’s caramel colored eyes, so unlike the blue of his Soulmates. The Mark burned almost to the point of pain, his skin tingling with a deep sense of how wrong this was. 

“Come with me, Brendon Urie.” Ryan murmured, almost gently. 

Brendon nodded and stood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been sitting on this draft so damn long. I hate it. I'm sorry it's short, but I needed to publish it so I could fucking move on already.


	6. Cherry Wine

Ryan immediately pulled Brendon into his lap when they had settled into the backseat. Brendon let him. He may as well get used to it, now. The car pulled away, leaving Brendon’s phone shattered in the street and Pete and Patrick no doubt terrified and searching for him. 

“You made the right choice.” Ryan rumbled against Brendon’s neck. “And you came when I told you to. You were a very good boy, Brendon.”

Brendon bowed his head. “Just promise not to hurt them. Please.” 

“They have no more part in this narrative, my dear. You’re never going to see them again, and they have nothing to fear from me.” That sent a sharp pang through Brendon’s heart. At least they would be safe. 

“I can’t wait to show you my house in LA. It’s far less flashy and dry there, we can go to the beach, even. Or my pool, if the waves are too strong for you.”

“Wait, you live in LA?” 

“Of course I do, who the hell would want to live here in Sin City? Besides whores, of course. I’m sure you’re grateful to be leaving the streets you kept prowling at night.” He curled his lip. “And the Alpha’s that shared your bed. Aren’t you going to be a project.” 

Brendon flinched, still looking down. “Yes, I’m very grateful,” he lied. He could still smell Pete from the ratty t shirt and sweatpants he had borrowed from him. He wondered how long he would be allowed to hold onto them, if, in time, he would forget the smell, forget his friend’s faces. 

His breath was shaking, but Ryan didn’t seem to care. Of course he didn’t, he had everything he could have wanted. 

“This was just a business trip for me, I stayed because you intrigued me so much. Fuck, I can’t wait to have you sing for me. And Jon can teach you to play the harp, you'll be perfect.”

Brendon just nodded. 

“‘We should go shopping, before we leave. You need silk and jewels, not those rags. They stink of that Alpha.” His grip tightened, breath hot on Brendon’s neck. Brendon did not react. “Did he fuck you, Whore? Is that why he let you stay? Were you a little side bitch for him?” 

“He’s my friend.” Brendon whispered. “And he has a Soulmate. He’d never want to sleep with me.” 

“I doubt that, it seems every Alpha in the city has had a go at you,” Ryan muttered. “You’re lucky I’m willing to look past that. If I hadn’t taken you in, you would’ve been whoring yourself out for the rest of your life.” 

Unless he met his Soulmate. “Thank you, Ryan.” 

The Alpha continued in this vein for a while, and Brendon found himself starting to tune it out. He stared out the window and allowed himself to not think for the rest of the trip, until the car pulled over in front of the same apartment building as before. The driver opened the door, and Brendon met his gaze a moment. The man bowed his head and gestured for them to exit, Brendon doing so first. He found a bitter smile creeping it’s way across his lips as he stood. 

“Looks like we’re going to be seeing a lot of each other,” he told the man. Ryan joined him, wrapping a hand tight around his wrist. 

“Call me Tyler, Omega Ross,” the driver responded with a little bow. Brendon felt the smile fall as Ryan barked a short laugh and pulled him to the door. 

Brendon kept remembering that fateful morning, when Ryan had kicked him out threatening to kill him. Everything showed up in rewind, the bench where he’d waited for Gabe, the elevator where his own haunted eyes stared back at him from the mirrored walls, demanding to know why he was clutching his own abuser’s arm, and, finally, the room where Ryan had fucked him over and again. Had it been rape? He was a whore, he’d been paid. Probably not. 

It certainly wasn’t going to be now. 

“Okay,” Ryan crossed his arms over his chest after he’d closed the door behind them. “Now strip, I want to see what I paid for, not the ratty clothes of another Alpha.” 

With a flash of terror, Brendon remembered that the Mark was exposed now, no longer covered under thick layers of makeup. Ryan had just literally bought him, how angry would he be to realize his property was already marked? But there was no avoiding it, Ryan would find out eventually. It may as well be now. 

Even so, Brendon stripped slowly, careful not to turn his back to the Alpha. Ryan watched with hungry eyes as each inch as bare skin was revealed. Then, when Brendon was completely naked, he twirled his finger in a silent command for the Omega to turn. 

Brendon’s heart was pounding so hard he felt like he was going to be sick. He took a deep breath, then turned his back to Ryan. The Mark burned with the weight of his gaze. 

There was a long pause. Ryan seemed temporarily stunned, and Brendon hunched over himself, trembling. All he could do was wait. 

Finally, Ryan laughed, loud and bitter, making Brendon jump. 

“You have a Soulmate.” Another laugh, as dry as the Vegas desert around them. “You’re a whore with a Soulmate.” 

“Yes. But I’ve never met them, and probably never will.” 

“Probably,” Ryan repeated. “Probably. Fucking probably.” His shoes squeaked on the hardwood floor as he started to pace. “Legally, a Soulmate can steal you away whenever they want. Unless…” The squeaking stopped a moment, then he let out a frustrated growl. They resumed. “Unless the relationship has a consensual bond, and you hate me. Don’t you, you fucking slut?” 

Brendon flinched, feeling it safest not to answer. 

“I have to have that bond, I need an Omega, I need a family. Dad always told me to take what I want, fuck the consequences. And this is the only one that’s compatible, that’s beautiful, that’s talented-” 

“What does compatible mean?” Brendon asked before he could stop himself. Ryan whirled to look at him and Brendon swiftly bowed his head again. Ryan walked into his line of sight. 

“If an Alpha and an Omega are compatible,” he explained slowly, “it mean they can bond. Only the Alpha can know. It’s no Soulbond, but it does make them close. I’m drawn to you, Brendon. My body sings when I’m with you. I can’t give you up.” He pulled away a little, gaze dark. “I won’t give you up, not ever.” His eyes lit up a little, mouth twisting into a fierce smile. “I should tell your Alpha that.”

“What?” Bendon looked up now, suddenly worried not just for his own safety. “But-”

“If another Alpha touches the Mark,” Ryan interrupted. “Another Alpha with the potential to steal the Omega, the Soulmate feels it.” He walked around Brendon again, pressing himself against the Omega’s back. “And it’s supposed to hurt the Omega. Wouldn’t that be an excellent punishment for you withholding this information from me?” 

Brendon’s skin was crawling from the Alpha being so close to the Mark, but he paid it little attention. He didn’t want his Soulmate to know, didn’t want Ryan to touch the Mark. He cared little about the pain, more concerned with the thought that his Soulmate would begin to realize how used his Omega was. “Please, please don’t, I’m sorry-”

Ryan’s fingers pressed hard into his hips. “I own you,” he hissed. “I own your body, I own your life, and I own this fucking Mark.” 

Then he placed his hand over the Mark, and Brendon’s vision exploded into red, then blue, the crystal blue of his dreams. He was faintly aware of a sharp burning sensation on his shoulder, but more than anything felt the pounding of his heart in his chest, it’s rhythmic pumping of blood cycling through the veins throughout his entire body, just under his skin. Somebody was talking, a low growl thudding in time with his heart, an angry tone that flooded his heart with the warmth and safety he only felt in his dreams. 

“Omega, my Omega, get your hands off of my Omega, you fucker, you evil, I’ll find you, I’ll-”

Brendon’s knees crashed to the hardwood floor, deep, bruising pain shooting through the bone and the world jerking back to reality when Ryan didn’t follow his descent with his hand. The Alpha hummed and walked off, leaving Brendon to curl on the floor, eyes wide open but unfocused. His Soulmate was alive, was out there, was looking for him. 

And he’d just given himself over to Ryan Ross. 

His eyes stung, and he realized he was crying, weak gasps choking out between the gulping sobs. Seventeen years of dreaming of his Soulmate, of imaging being whisked away to paradise. He wished the man was dead, maybe it would hurt less. 

Ryan’s boot collided with his back, forcing him from his defensive position. 

“Get up, whore. I want to make good use of that ass.” 

Brendon stood, slowly, and stumbled, blinded by tears, in what he hoped was the direction of the bed. Ryan stopped him by grabbing hold of his shoulders, before ripping Pete’s shirt, the old fabric tearing easily at the seams. He then wrestled the sweatpants off, throwing both away carelessly before pushing Brendon onto the bed, immediately clambering on top of him. 

Brendon closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. 

 

They moved to LA the next day. Ryan told Brendon he knew his name because Brendon’s parents had seen the paparazzi picture Gerard had shown him, and gotten in contact with Ryan. Not only had Gabe sold him off, his own parents had immediately accepted Ryan’s offer to purchase him. Brendon Urie was Ryan Ross’ in every sense of the word, yet his skin still burned at the Alpha’s touch. 

They took a private jet that landed them in Hollywood, where paparazzi shouted questions at both of them as Tyler led them to a waiting limo. The mansion was beautiful, almost rustic, and clearly well taken care of by the servants that greeted them as they walked in the front doors. Ryan took one look at his hired help then carelessly declared that he had an Omega, and that all the Alphas in his staff were fired. He then pulled Brendon up the stairs, leaving them in stunned silence. 

A Beta with a scruffy beard and tense shoulders followed them. 

“What the fuck, Ryan?” He demanded the moment they were alone. “Those people have served you and your father for years, you can’t just fire them out of the blue!” 

Ryan shoved Brendon into a chair, where he sat and tried to stay still and invisible. 

“I can do whatever the fuck I want, Jon. Dad’s dead, remember?” 

“I do,” the Beta, Jon replied. “And thank god for that, really, but you can’t just fire people because...wait, who is this?” 

Ryan grinned, walking behind the chair Brendon sat in to wrap his arms around the Omega’s neck, looking up at Jon as he did. “This is my Omega, Jon. I finally found an Omega.” 

Jon looked Brendon over a moment, taking him in. Brendon looked away. Ryan had dressed him in a dress before they left Vegas, one that hung loosely over his form and glittered a gentle silver in the light. It had sleeves that covered the Mark from view. Brendon was glad he knew how to cover it so well, with makeup or without. 

Jon looked terrified to see him, his body tensing even more. 

“Ryan...did he want to come with you?” He asked. He met Brendon’s eyes and held them. 

“That’s not important,” Ryan replied, and now he sounded angry too. He let go of Brendon, walking around to face Jon. “What is important, is that he likes to sing and play instruments, and I’m sure I can trust you to teach him. You will, won’t you, Jon? After all, you’ve served me all these years.” His eyes were dark with fire. Jon nodded slowly, still staring at Brendon. 

“You know I’m always loyal, Ryan,” he replied slowly. 

 

And so a pattern was formed. Brendon woke every day to find Ryan wanted his morning wood taken care of, and he did as he was told. They then had breakfast together, before Ryan left for work. Brendon would then spend nearly an hour getting dressed in one of the fancy dresses Ryan kept buying him, avoiding his eyes in the mirror as he did his makeup and hair, applying pink gloss to his lips and wondering if he missed the stain of red that used to smear them. He would spend several hours with Jon, learning music and talking about everything and nothing, before being released to his own time, usually spent reading or wandering the gardens as he tried to convince himself he could be happy again. Then Ryan would come back and smile at the way his doll had decorated itself and fuck him again. They would eat dinner and go to bed. Wash, rinse, repeat. The only bright spot were the times Jon forgot he was Ryan’s servant, that Brendon was Ryan’s Omega, and would tell him a scandalous story or something to make the Omega laugh. He never asked again if Brendon was willing to be there. 

Even his dreams had faded. After Ryan touched his Mark, the crystals in his dreams dulled, the voice quieting, the blue fading. It faded a little more every night, when Brendon would fall asleep on Ryan’s knot. He knew there was probably some way he could get his dreams to gleam away, but he didn’t seek any out. It was probably best to let go, at this point. 

 

Brendon remembered loving fairy tales, as a child. His parents let him watch Disney movies because he would dress as Prince Charming and kept dressing his stuffed animals as little, Omegan princesses for him to save. He used to swing sticks in the air as the great dragon Maleficent attacked Prince Phillip on screen, laughing when the evil was defeated and the two Soulmates (in Disney, they were always Soulmates) could finally kiss and be together forever.

Now, it felt like he was instead the princess in a fairytale, but not the Disney sort. Rather, the Grimm stories that Pete used to read aloud, equally fascinated and gleeful as Brendon listened with horrified awe until Patrick chided his mate. He remembered the tale of Rapunzel, locked in a tower all alone, beautiful and alone but for her captor, how her prince had blinded himself on the thorns around his tower. Brendon didn’t have a prince, practically didn’t have a Soulmate, not anymore. All he had was a mark on his skin, confusing dreams, and a captor to shield and protect and entrap him in the tower forever. And he didn’t even want to leave, not anymore. All that was outside was thorns.

 

After a month of being in LA, Ryan took him out to dinner, to a restaurant where the lights gleamed off the crystals Brendon wore around his neck, around the plain black collar Ryan had put on him to hold his place temporarily. Brendon knew what Ryan was going to say the moment he saw the flat, square box the Alpha placed on the table after dessert. He waited through the speech of how Brendon wasn’t going to get anyone better, how Ryan knew they were compatible, how Brendon was beyond lucky to have been saved as he was. He stared at the collar inside the box, covered in jewels and with Ryan Ross scrawled in golden calligraphy. 

“Be my mate,” Ryan said. “Agree to a bonding, say you’ll be mine.”

The collar must be so heavy. The dresses were heavy, anyway. Even the Mark was heavy now, heavy with expectation, heavy with hope, heavy with empty promises of love and happiness and freedom. 

Ryan had saved him. Ryan was the best he was going to get. 

Brendon said yes. 

Their bonding took an entire day. Ryan was gentle, for once. He kissed Brendon everywhere, made him come over and over again, whispered praise of his beauty and licked at his neck until he found the spot he wanted the bite mark to be. 

When he bit, Brendon waited for his Soulmate’s voice. He heard nothing but Ryan’s groans as he came. He put a hand on the back of Ryan’s head and clenched around the Alpha’s knot, feeling angry tears form in his eyes. It was for the best, really. Once his Soulmate found out what he’d done, he’d never want him. Brendon was lucky, was so lucky, that Ryan chose him. 

He was lucky. 

He was…

He was broken. 

Of course, nothing was ever easy, nothing was ever given to him. He had to give up on his Soulmate, completely and utterly, in order to find him. 

Ryan had left the room to go to breakfast, leaving Brendon some time to shower before joining him. He washed the blood and come from that morning’s rendezvous down the drain, running the washcloth over his torn hole, his bruised wrists, the still healing bite mark on his neck clinically, barely even wincing at the pain anymore. It was a burden he carried every day, the price he had to pay for being such a dirty whore. He pulled on his pajamas, that he only really wore to their private breakfasts and never to bed, a t-shirt that reminded him of Pete’s and some silk pants that whispered against his skin. He was running a hand through his wet hair, trying to tame it, when he left the room and started to descend the grand staircase to get to the dining room. 

And then he stopped. Because somebody was at the base of the stairs. 

“Oh,” Brendon said stupidly. The stranger looked up, and their eyes met. His eyes were the exact same crystal blue as Brendon’s dreams. Warmth flooded his body, the drumsticks starting to dance on his skin. The stranger’s eyes widened, a flash of what looked like fire at the collar of his shirt, then-

“Spencer,” Ryan said, stepping out of the dining room. “What are you doing here?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now thats a helluva cliffhanger
> 
> Anyway as you can probably tell I am Inconsistent As Hell but I'm also Busy As Hell so sorry. 
> 
> Please comment it's all I have in this dark and cruel world.


	7. Hating Oneself As A Hobby Is Totally In

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to be studying for a math test and instead I present you with long-awaited filler haha my life is failing me

Jon had mentioned Spencer before. During one of their lessons, he’d sighed and leaned back after Brendon had finished a melody on the piano. 

“Okay, you’re good,” he’d said. “Seriously, this feels so fucking useless sometimes. You clearly don’t need my help. 

Brendon had looked down, running his fingers gently over the keys. 

“Are you going to tell Ryan that?” He asked. Jon snorted. 

“Hell no, I won’t be able to hang out with you anymore. You need people other than Ryan in your life.” 

Brendon shuddered before he could stop himself. Jon looked him over with a critical eye. 

“You should have seen him,” he said finally, “before his dad died. He was such a fucking hippie type, loved writing lyrics about the stars and love.” He sighed. “He and Spencer even talked about joining those Omega Rights groups, made promises about how they would treat their Omegas with respect and shit like that.” His eyes lingered on Brendon’s wrists, red with rope burn. “I...I wish he’d kept those promises.” 

Brendon swallowed, shaking his sleeves to cover his wrists. “Who’s Spencer?” He remembered listening to Ryan talk to someone named Spencer on the phone after their first night together. Could it be the same person? 

Jon smiled a little despite the previously dark subject matter. “Spencer is Ryan’s best friend, and mine as well. He and Ryan grew up together. They had a bit of a falling out, though, because Spencer is obsessed with finding his Soulmate, and Ryan is jealous he has a Soulmate at all. They had a big fight, and Spencer left to go search for his Soulmate. Apparently he’s been having dreams or something of his Omega needing help.” He sighed, leaning back. “It freaked him out a lot, he couldn’t just stay in one place. Ryan got mad though.” 

“Why?” 

“Ryan’s dad was on his ass at the time, nearing the end of his life and knowing it. He tried to make Ryan like himself, they spent all their time together and Ryan wanted to escape, but Spencer couldn’t help that much. I tried, and that’s why I’m here, working for the asshole.” He shook his head. “But I shouldn’t be telling you this. You won’t tell Ryan, right?” 

Brendon shook his head, feeling the fabric of his sleeves irritate the rope burns. “We don’t talk much, anyway.” 

Now, Brendon stood on the stairs and stared, helpless, as his Soulmate broke his gaze to look at Ryan. 

“That’s the greeting I get? I wanted to see my best friend again, Ry.” He stepped forward, eyes flickering to Brendon and back. Ryan frowned but accepted the hug. 

“I thought you were looking for your Omega. Did you find them?” As he spoke, he gestured for Brendon to join them. The Omega did so hurriedly, barely remembering to accept Ryan’s arm around his waist as he stared at the newcomer. 

“Not yet,” Spencer replied. He glanced at Brendon again, blue eyes guarded. “But I haven’t given up.” He paused a moment, still staring at Brendon, then swallowed. “Who’s this, then?” 

Ryan smiled, giddy as he always was to show off his new prize. “This is Brendon, my Omega.”

Spencer startled at that. “But you don’t have a-” 

“We’re not fucking Soulmates, Spence.” Ryan interrupted. “I’ve mated him, we’re compatible. That’s all we need. Now, Bren,” he turned his head to look Brendon up and down and raise an critical eyebrow. “How about you get all pretty for our guest, yeah? Don’t want you looking sloppy for a first impression.” 

Brendon flushed, bowing his head and suddenly ashamed. He did look like trash, didn’t he? And in front of his Soulmate! He nodded and ran back to Ryan’s room, making a beeline for the closet. 

He’d found his Soulmate! Finally, the Alpha he’d been waiting for all his life had come into his life, right when Brendon accepted that Ryan was the best path for him. He shuddered, shame curling deeper and deeper into his bones. Spencer had devoted so much time and effort into finding his Omega, only to find a painted, broken little thing with a used body and a mating mark gnawed into his neck by his best friend. Brendon wasn’t good enough, he never had been. Spencer probably wouldn’t even want him anymore after he’d heard of what Brendon had done. 

He shuddered, wiping tears from his face. He had to make himself look nice, be presentable. If Spencer wouldn’t have him, he‘d always have Ryan. He ignored the throbbing Soulmark on his shoulder and pulled out a dress, pretending he hadn’t chosen it for it’s color of a striking blue, so similar to Spencer’s eyes. 

When he descended the stairs again it was carefully, head bowed and steps slow. He was stopped before he entered the dining room, though, by a gentle hand pulling him back. 

“Wait, Brendon. Your, uh… your Soulmark is moving.” 

It was Jon, eyes wide and fixed to Brendon’s shoulder. Brendon froze in terror, realizing that the dress he’d chosen had no sleeves, that there was a jacket he was supposed to wear with it. 

“Wait, does that mean that Spencer-” 

Brendon squeaked and grabbed Jon by the wrist, pulling him to a corner where they wouldn’t be spotted if anyone opened the door. Jon’s eyes were wide with shock, but a smile was growing on his face. 

“You can’t tell Ryan, please, you can’t, I promise I won’t leave him, just please-” 

“What do you mean you won’t leave him?” Jon interrupted. “Brendon, if Spencer’s your Soulmate, you’re saved. He’ll move Heaven and Earth for you.” 

“No he won’t! I’m ruined, he deserves better than some used up whore.” Brendon sniffled, wiping at his eyes then cursing. “Shit, my makeup.” 

“Brendon, you’re not a whore.” Jon murmured. He took Brendon’s hands in his own, warming them. Brendon trembled. 

“I am, though,” he whispered. “How do you think I managed to stay alive so long alone? Ryan picked me up from the streets, Jon. I’ve been fucked by more Alphas than I can count when I was supposed to be saving myself for Spencer.” 

Jon set his jaw. “Right. You can’t just decide to give up on this without consulting Spencer. I’ll set up a meeting for you two, alright? You need to talk. And Brendon,” he lowered his head to look Brendon straight in the eye. “Your past does not define you. I’ve known Spencer all my life, he’ll never think that you’re ruined. He’ll see what I see, strength.” Then he smiled at him one last time and walked away, entering the dining room. 

Brendon stood there, shaking, questioning everything, then ran back upstairs for his jacket. 

When he finally joined the rest of them, Ryan rolled his eyes and gestured for him to sit beside him. 

“Took your time, didn’t you, love? And with not much payoff.” 

Brendon kept his head bowed as he sat, Ryan’s hand curling around his knee. 

“Sorry, Ryan,” he whispered, resisting the urge to try to sneak a glance at Spencer. 

“You’re forgiven, Darling, just be more considerate next time.” 

“So how did you two meet?” Spencer asked suddenly. His voice was tight. 

Ryan seemed to hesitate a moment. He looked at Brendon, who shook his head. He wanted to keep his past behind him, wished that Spencer would never find out the truth. But he should have known better than to express that to Ryan, who smirked at him. 

“Brendon used to be a whore,” he announced. Brendon whimpered. “I saved him, bought off his pimp and brought him here so he could have a better life.”

Jon was silent, but Spencer spoke up, eyes wide with horror. 

“Is this true, Brendon?” He asked. 

“Of course it is,” Ryan snapped before Brendon could speak. Brendon shuddered, wanting nothing more than to defend himself in front of Spencer but knowing that there was nothing he could say to justify it, and that Ryan would be furious beyond belief if he ever knew the truth. Instead, he curled into the only comfort he had, Ryan’s presence beside him. 

“Is the food coming, Ryan?” He asked quietly. His mate startled. 

“What? Oh yeah, of course.” 

The rest of the meal passed almost comfortably. Jon turned the conversation away from Brendon’s past, instead recalling old childhood memories for the three old friends to laugh at. Brendon remained entirely silent, sneaking glances at Spencer only to occasionally catch the Alpha doing the same. Every time their eyes met Brendon blushed and looked away, picking at his food, feeling the Mark warm against his skin and Ryan’s hand caressing his knee. Then Ryan’s phone rang, and he stood to answer it in another room, trailing fingers along the back of Brendon’s neck as he passed. 

Brendon did not look at Spencer when they were alone, he didn’t want to see the disappointment in his eyes. Jon had no such qualms. 

“I meet with him every day for lessons,” Brendon heard him tell Spencer, voice low. “One to four, the music room. You remember where that is?” 

“Of course,” Spencer replied. Brendon could feel his eyes on him. “I’ll be there.” He sighed, voice heavy. “If I had known…”

“You’re here now.” Jon interrupted gently. Brendon fiddled with his fork, pushing around his food. He couldn’t even taste it. 

“Yeah, I am,” Spencer replied. He spoke a little louder. “Brendon, I’m so-” 

Brendon surprised himself by shaking his head, short and sharp, still looking down. 

“Ryan could hear,” he said quietly. “He can’t know.” He felt something like bile rise in his throat at the very idea of Ryan knowing. It could never happen. “He can’t, ever. Please.” 

“I won’t tell him, not until we talk.” Spencer promised after a brief silence.” Brendon nodded just in time for the door to open, Ryan stepping back inside and striding forward with a confidence contrasting his slight frame. 

“We’re all finished our meals, aren’t we?” He said, clapping his hands for servants to enter and start clearing away plates. “I have to go to work, but we can talk a little beforehand, Spence, before you go.” 

Spencer stood. “Actually, I was planning on staying with you for a little while, gather my thoughts and spend time with my friends.” He smiled, sudden and disarming, and at the very sight of it Brendon felt an immediate fondness curl inside him. “It’s been awhile, Ryan, and I’m sorry I left you. Care to make up for lost time?” 

Ryan hesitated a moment, but Brendon could see the way his posture loosened, a similar fondness in his own eyes as he started to forgive his friend. Then he looked to Brendon and his gaze hardened again. 

“Of course you can stay, but you have to promise me something.” He stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on the back of Brendon’s neck. “You won’t touch Brendon, or even look at him twice. I dismissed all the Alphas in my staff because I was scared they would try to take him, and because he’s pretty loose and sloppy, and might try to-” his grip tightened, Brendon wincing- “seduce one of them to escape me.” Here he looked up, smiling even as his fingers dug bruises into Brendon’s neck. “But I can trust you, right Spencer? You’re still saving yourself for your Omega, and you would never betray a friend.” 

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Spencer replied. “I never would.” 

 

Later that day, Brendon knocked on the door to Jon’s music room for their lesson. He was startled when it opened almost immediately, Jon giving him a short smile before ushering him inside. 

Spencer stood in a nearby corner out of sight of the door. He offered Brendon a small, almost shy smile, then turned to Jon. 

“Three hours, right?” 

“Best make it a little less,” Jon advised, keeping the door open. “Ryan’s on edge, he’s gonna be unpredictable.” He looked them both over, eyes fond. “I’m glad you two are Soulmates, you deserve each other.” He leveled Brendon with a look. “Remember, B, you don’t need to keep punishing yourself for your own traumas.” Then he was gone, the door shutting with a quiet click. 

There was silence for a moment, everything suddenly awkward. Spencer was obviously trying not to stare at him and failing miserably. Brendon felt hot. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out, breaking the silence. Spencer looked up, looking like he was going to object, but Brendon kept going. “I’m sorry I-I’m sorry I gave away what’s yours. I failed you.” He looked down, then, shuddering, remembered his place and sank to his knees instead. “I’m filthy, Alpha, I’m sorry-” 

“Hush,” Spencer interrupted, getting to his own knees beside him. Brendon startled, shocked by the gesture, but was calmed when Spencer very gently folded one of his hands in his own. “You have nothing to be sorry for, you’ve done nothing wrong.” 

“But I-”

“Hey.” Here Spencer placed a palm on his cheek, lifting his head so they could meet each other’s gaze. And Brendon felt his breath steal away at the sight of tears pooling in the Alpha’s eyes, spilling over his cheeks without shame. 

“I’ve searched for you,” he whispered, tone reverent, hands gentle like Brendon was some precious artifact. “For so long. I’ve come to know you in the peace of my dreams, heard your voice in every fantasy, listened to your tears in every nightmare. The last two years of my life were devoted entirely to finding you, and now that I’ve seen your face,” he laughed, wild and unabashedly happy. “It was worth it. God, it was worth it. You’re my Soulmate, Brendon. Nothing can ever take away from that.” 

“But I was bad,” Brendon said, voice small. Spencer shook his head. 

“You were brave, you were so brave. And now I’m lucky enough to have found you.” Brendon just stared at him, lost for words, until Spencer shook his head and stood, bringing Brendon with him. 

“Look, nothing will ever make me not love you, and I don’t know the details of what you’ve gone through, but I do know that Ryan hurts you, and he shouldn’t.” Brendon disagreed.   
Ryan was within his rights to control his Omega the way he did. Brendon had to be grateful, after all. 

Spencer continued. 

“But if you really, truly want to be with him, I won’t stop you. And if you want to escape him but don’t want me, I’ll help you escape and then drop you off wherever you want to go. And if you want to be in a relationship with me, with no obligations or supposed ownerships,” he stepped forward, taking both of Brendon’s hands in his. “I’ll worship you every day as the incredible, kind, and breathtakingly gorgeous person you are. But it’s entirely your choice, I’m at your disposal.” Then he dropped Brendon’s hands, pulling away. “Please, Brendon. Tell me what you want.” 

Brendon blinked at him. “What?” 

“This depends on you now,” Spencer reminded him. His brilliant blue eyes were soft, a bright phoenix peeking over his shirt collar. That must be his Soulmark. Brendon refused to think of the implications behind that. “It’s your choice.” 

“But you want me,” Brendon confirmed. Spencer nodded. “Then aren’t you going to claim me? Ryan’s mated me, but you have legal claim. You can do whatever you want to me.” 

Spencer looked a bit hesitant now. “Of course I want to claim you, but if I do it has to be mutual.”

“But-”

“Do you want me?” Spencer interrupted. And Brendon...paused. 

Of course he wanted Spencer. Spencer was gentle, was kind, was the exact mate he’d always dreamed of having. Spencer was a perfect match to his childhood fantasies. 

But Brendon wasn’t a child anymore. 

He’d grown dirty, grown world weary. Had flirted and slept with strangers while Spencer’s Mark was on his shoulder, hidden under layers of makeup. Spencer deserved a pure Omega that had had the sense to remain faithful, even under hardships. With a dark flash he remembered being raped in that alleyway, a sick feeling in his stomach. How could he have let that happen? How could he betray Spencer like that? 

Spencer deserved better than him. 

“No.” 

Spencer actually stepped back at that, and Brendon blinked back tears at the shattered look on his face. 

“I-I’m sorry,” Brendon gasped. “It’s just, you deserve better, so much better.”

“Brendon-” 

“No, I can’t let you drag yourself into the dirt with me.” The tears started to fall, Brendon literally shaking with emotion. “You’re incredible, Spencer, you deserve somebody so much better-”

“But I don’t want anyone else!” Spencer tried to reach for his hand, but Brendon jerked away. 

“I’m not pure!” He snapped. “I’ve been raped, I’ve been sold, I’ve been passed around like cattle and I let it happen. I flirted with Ryan when we first met, I willingly gave myself over to him!” He shuddered. “I’m disgusting, and I can’t let you drag yourself into my mess of a life.” Wiping the tears from his face, he turned to step towards the door. 

Only to have his hand clutched. He looked at Spencer, then froze in shock when the Alpha released his hand only to sink to his knees at Brendon’s feet. 

“I’m sorry,” Spencer said. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t help you. But please, Brendon, don’t do this. You’ve been robbed of your choices all this time,” he lifted his head, so Brendon could see the quiet desperation in his face, the way way his hands clenched at his sides like he wanted to hold on and never let go. “Are you really going to take away my choice to love you for who you are?” 

Brendon was struck speechless. An Alpha kneeling before an Omega? It was beyond scandalous, it was the willing acquisition of power. And Brendon had power here, he realized that now. He could run away, back to Ryan and his cold words and colder chains and destroy his Soulmate’s happiness in the process, or he could accept Spencer’s sacrifice and spend the rest of his life desperately trying to be good enough to deserve the life Spencer would grant him. 

Brendon had a choice. One only he could decide. And one that was glaringly obvious. 

It wasn’t even that they were Soulmates, Brendon could feel himself falling in love just from the ernest hopefulness in Spencer’s eyes. 

“No,” he whispered. “No, I will never do that do you. Not when I want that more than anything.” 

Spencer gasped a relieved breath and surged upwards, pressing close but leaving his hands at his sides. They shared each other’s breath until Brendon took the hint and closed the gap, joining their lips in a kiss. 

The moment their lips touched, Brendon felt like his skin was on fire. He didn’t have to look to see the phoenix soaring between their linked bodies as Spencer finally wrapped him in his arms and pulled him close. The drumsticks beat a steady rhythm with each of their breaths, bodies moving in tandem and more closely linked than Brendon and Ryan had ever been when they had sex just from a simple kiss. Spencer’s hands brushed Ryan’s mating mark, but it didn’t hurt the way the Mark did when Ryan touched it. In fact, Brendon felt something snap in his head, the so-called compatibility Ryan had been so sure about crumbling away. Suddenly he knew with perfect clarity that he was created entirely for the touch of Spencer’s lips on his, for the gentle brush of the Alpha’s hands over his body, not possessive but affirming, confirming that they were finally together in the flesh outside of their mutual dreams. 

It was heaven on earth. His self-hatred faded away. Ryan faded away. All that mattered was his Soulmate. 

They sat down together at one point, Brendon curled into Spencer’s side as they just took comfort from each other’s presence. The phoenix had fallen asleep in the crook of Brendon’s collarbone, and the drumsticks were tapping at Spencer’s elbow. He watched them, smiling. 

“I knew I liked drumming, but never thought they’d be important enough to me to be my Mark.” 

“What did you think it would be?” Brendon asked. Spencer shrugged, jostling him a little bit. He made a sound of protest and snuggled closer. 

“An animal, maybe. I don’t know, something cool.” His smile grew, finger tracing the edge of Brendon’s collarbone. “You’re lucky, you got a literal mythological creature.” 

“I don’t know why.” The phoenix was so warm on his skin. “I’m not anything special.” 

“Hey, now,” Spencer tipped his head up, kissed him sweetly. “Stop that, you’re perfect.” He caressed Brendon’s cheekbone, seemingly unable to stop smiling. “Absolutely perfect.” 

Brendon just shook his head, ducking down to cuddle again. “What do you do?” He asked, changing the subject. Spencer sighed, obliging him. 

“I’m a music manager, kind of. I don’t know, I got the degree and my dad wants me to take over the company when he’s ready to let it go. Smith Records, if you’ve heard of it.” 

Wait. “My friend interns there,” Brendon said slowly, remembering the logo on the some of Pete’s shirts, the mention of an ‘Alpha Smith’ who was a part of Omega Rights activism and paid Pete for time off so he could take care of a friend. “Do you know Pete Wentz?” 

“Oh my god, that crazy little fucker?” Spencer asked, sounding stunned. Brendon laughed in wild disbelief. 

“Yeah, that’s him. Fuck, I can’t believe this.” 

“Oh, this is fantastic.” Spencer said. “I’ll call him after this, get him to come up here with Patrick. Um,” he hesitated a bit. “Unless that would be too forward. I don’t really know how well you know each other-” 

Brendon kissed him; he couldn’t help it. When he pulled away he was grinning at the very thought of seeing his friends again. “They’re not just friends, they’re practically family. I’d love to see them again.” 

“That’s settled then.” They kissed again, losing themselves a moment. Then Brendon remembered something. 

“What are you going to do about Ryan?” He asked. Spencer sighed. 

“Well, technically he has legal claim over you, and to free you I might have to literally sue him. I’ll win of course, but he’ll probably going to fight it as far as he can.” A frown crept over his lips, voice sad. “He might hurt you in the process. I think I’ll try to talk to him first, maybe he can still see reason.” 

“Can you do something for me?” Brendon whispered. His Alpha nodded. 

“Anything.” 

“Don’t tell him we’re Soulmates, not until you’re ready to immediately take me away.” The ropeburns still stung around his wrists, ass a permanent sore ache after night after night of falling asleep on a knot. “He’ll be angry.” 

“I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter title was going to be a M A N I A lyric then Brendon got all dramatic on my ass and I was like fine boy let's get relatable then.   
> Why the fuck did I take Pre-Calc. I'm an English major. I write fanfic during all my classes. Why did I think I could figure out what the fuck math is. Y'all should be happy though, procrastination means everything but what you should be doing and now I've finished this chapter kind of. It was going to be like 100x longer but this seems like a good enough time to stop.   
> No I did not edit this it's raw and pure ~~~ (like Brendon's ass) (I'm a fucking monster)


End file.
